Through the Living Heir

The freaky tree monster decided to cut its losses and find somebody else to replace the bones of. The man kept walking and whistling, unaware of the chaos his sword was causing. Plot magic, absolutely. Jack runs on Plot magic. Jack blinked. That was weird. Could he do that, since he was made from metal? He was made from metal?! If Jack could breathe, he would have begun to hyperventilate. It wasn't Rebus, in fact. He would be wearing a coat, and being a little less silly. Smiling, Heir offered 9/1000mHB#2 some popcorn. Rebus glanced at him, similarly perplexed. Either he'd soon feel rather silly, or something was about to violently explode. The tree monster had begun to slink away, but now saw a new opportunity for prey. It grinned, splintery teeth bereft of any surrounding flesh. - Jack looked back, eyes staring off into the space beyond him.

A man walked through a forest, Dramatic Irony sheathed at his side. He whistled as he walked, completely unaware of the horrible tree monster following him in the canopy. Jack's memory is physically encoded in clockwork. He does register as a person to magic, unlike his brethren, so it could go either way. Jack was distressed - far too many people were collapsing to the floor today. Premonition is indeed a very good word. Rebus held up a finger, and a mote of light blossomed into existence, crystallizing into a tiny piece of Prismite. A robot arm with tweezers plucked it from his fingertip; Rebus stepped back, and a transparent wall of nanomachines locked together between them and the experiment. The robot arm touched the Prismite to the medallion and... Nothing happened. There was no change - the crystal simply lay on the medallion point, sparkling with light. Slowing down time so events worked correctly, Rebus summoned his Narrationblade. His grip wasn't loose by any means, but it was wasn't nearly as tight as Atlas's. "Plotblades are magic - you don't need to worry about dropping them, and they'll cut through almost anything. Yours especially only needs to make contact, so the way you hold it should prioritize speed over force. Like this." He flicked his wrist, and the sword cut swiftly through the air. - Rebus smiled, beginning his explaining. "I assume you're familiar with the Essences: Chaotic Light, Ordered Light, Ordered Dark, and Chaotic Dark. While Narrators and Ennullers - the beings affiliated with Chaotic Light and Ordered Dark - are quite powerful, most Withergeists are frankly pathetic. Part of that is due to their numbers, but the true reason for their lack of power is that it's all concentrated in a single entity." Rebus projected a hologram of what he had seen - what had once been Malevolence, surrounded by a thousand blades of darkness. "The Witherlord." - Rebus nodded. "Thank you." - Wither-amoeba-Rebus's eyes widened. Mordite carapace erupted from his skin as the grenades went off - the force of the explosions cracked it, sending bits of metal, nanotech, and flesh to the floor. "Ow." he said, sounding perfectly human as his face knit back together. Jack shivered. He didn't know what that meant, but it sounded very ominous. "Maybe?" he said, sounding a little distant. - Rebus nodded. "I shall." Then he disappeared, and in the distance took his second step through Onyx's Realm. - Off in the distance, a young man watched the fight with binoculars, occasionally munching from a bucket of popcorn. "By the way, I found Fog. Still don't know who she is, though."

Rebus nodded, smiling. “Thank you.” Sequence could see a figure in a white longcoat appear just outside the border - it was Rebus, of course, saving himself some walking in light of the much longer trek within Onyx’s Realm. As he passed through into Onyx’s Realm, the copy of him by Subversion turned back to her. “Is there anything you desire in return?” Would you or Xino be responsible for the obstacles along the way? - Continued at the bottom of the post. Rebus thought for a moment. “It depends upon whether they’re willing to help. Other than myself, Fog, Atlas, Cep, and Hiro, if you can simply start a conversation with a Narrator it will bring us closer to what is needed.” Rebus didn’t need to breathe - and neither did Atlas, though the latter hadn’t realized it. Taking advantage of Fog’s relative absence, Rebus tried to teleport himself and Atlas away from the arena. Rebus nodded. “Very well, then.” He teleported to one of his labs, expecting Asharak to follow. It was already set up for the experiment, instruments and tools mounted on moving arms. Rebus placed the medallion on a pedestal in the midst of the devices, clamping it down securely. The imprisoned copy of Rebus looked up, seeming mildly surprised. The newly arriving one simply winked, taking advantage of his familiarity with himself. Rebus watched Cyrus and Dax, smiling a bit condescendingly at the former. - It should have hurt, though Rebus didn’t feel any pain. “I touched a magical weapon - it had stayed finite until now, but of course magic is often unpredictable.” Luckily, the spread was starting to slow, though by this point it spiraled almost to the elbow. - Honestly no idea. Most of Dax’s tricks are hard-countered by wither magic, and Rebus knows full well that he metafictionally outclasses random robots, no matter how advanced. That being said, endlessly distracting him as he tries to escape is a lot more achievable than killing him, and nearly as useful. While he’ll be able to do it eventually, at the moment he cannot teleport or bilocate. Wither-Rebus tore a hole in the ceiling - or reality, if that was easier - and slithered through it, trying to reach the area the various traps had been stored in. - Rebus said nothing more, simply following Kyler to Cyrus. - “Very well,” Rebus smiled, and his words seemed to resonate. “Normally, I’d start with form - but this is a battle, and you’re a Narrator. When Fog appears again, try to distract her with some more sword swings - and be careful of teleportation and magic.” Pretty much everything Rebus makes looks like it came out of Portal or Tron - and since mysteriously glowing writing implements are suspicious, it just gets the greyscale. - @TwinStorm, just so you know I’m paying attention. Jack was rather stunned, unsure what to say - this talk of dark spirits seemed ominous, as did the mysterious coin on the ground. He picked it up, intending to return it to the man.

"There are several ways to potentially defeat him. Would you be willing to help me gather Narrators?" Rebus smiled in a manner that was perfectly normal. I'm going to bed, y'all.

Rebus has Moment and isn't quite sure what to do with it. Oh, and once I think of a new character, I'm giving them Dramatic Irony.

"Then let the deal be made. Symbol, safely removed to Onyx's protection, in exchange for a task of my choosing, which shall not demand your life or hers. Have we an agreement?" The wind seemed eager that its insidious plotting had come to fruition, but perhaps Rebus was projecting. He took a shaky breath. Symbol's torment had passed, but it could return. "She is safe, for now, but I said I would do this. I agree." Rebus gently held Symbol's hand, tears in his eyes - though they could be from the cold wind. "Rest. It's alright - Fate will get you to safety." - "Good. Would you like to be around for when I do test the converter? It could potentially produce Mordite for the Witherlord to kill us with, or an explosion similar to the one that let Malevolence claim the Lost Pages - so I am going to do it far from anything else." "Though I would appreciate it, I am here because I need to get to Onyx's Realm." Rebus smiled. "That requires a guide - someone who has been before." If I recall, the Traveler used a map made by someone who had. - "You fell," Jack said. "I don't know why - it was as soon as you walked into the city. This man knows a healer, and could use our help in exchange."

"Much like I am, with Heir combing the Thread for flashbacks. I do wish to speak with him, once all that has been resolved." Kion, who happened to be there, jumped. "Renders!" he cursed, "a Render!" - A man lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious. Two other people stood next to him, talking urgently - one of them wore a suit and top hat, and seemed to be made from metal. @NameIess @TwinStorm

Rebus paused. "Not quite yet; I have a few other things to do... Where exactly is Cep?" Their plot is "wander around aimlessly until we find someone wise" - you'd be adding on to it, not interrupting. Still, if you think it should be someone else, I have another character for you...

"I would say that this has little to do with the mechanics of the Essences." Rebus shrugged. "I think I just need to touch the corresponding part of the amulet to it." Lyric is guiding Jack, who wants to find someone who knows the meaning of life. They're currently looking for a priest of Plot, so Iromem might very well qualify.

The person offering the quest is at the Temple of Plot; Jack and Lyric just showed up there. "The safest test would be to turn a bit of Prismite into Nullite."

Jack nodded, clearly on edge. "Are they around?" @edgyswordname, would your character notice Jack and co wandering around? Though I suppose a four-person plot might stall out instantly. "Are you willing to pay the price?" whispered the wind. Rebus was. "Not her, and not me. Anything else, I will do it." With those words, Rebus saved his closest friend and doomed the world. - "That is what I intend to learn." Rebus said. "It took one of the last significant pieces of Luxite to craft, as well as Prismite, Mordite, and Nullite - they're bonded together, but I think each point is affiliated with one." Rebus shrugged. "It was before my time - they somehow froze him in place, I believe? That was before the banishing. No matter how it was done, it required powerful Ordered Light entities nowhere to be found in our current era."

Can't find the post - once I do this shall continue. - Rebus smiled, holding up a medallion in the shape of a four-pointed star. "This is Nameless's Essence Converter. It can make us Luxite." Jack pointed to Lyric, who had just fallen unconscious and dropped to the floor. "I know - I'll help you if you help him." "They sacrificed themselves to banish the Witherlord." Rebus laughed. "'I'm going to test a thing where I kill you' is not something I'd recommend saying to the subject. Regardless, it is nearly impossible for you to do that. You'd need to be a master metaphysicist specializing in Prismite." - Rebus cocked his head at his arm. "A sign, I think. Symbolism matters more, when it comes to me." He shrugged. "Anyway, we should get out of here and start trying to get you home." - Wither-Rebus jumped into the air, growing extra limbs with Mordite claws to latch onto the ceiling, out of reach for at least a moment. - Rebus handed Kyler a pen, styled in his trademark black and white. "Click this three times if you need me." He said quietly. Then he continued walking. - That was good - unshielded antimatter explosions were a bit of a problem.

The vision scrambled, and Rebus found himself thrust into a different memory. A painful one, but the pain was merely the prequel to the terrible events it had indirectly caused. Symbol was suffering - she cried out in pain, and so Rebus cried out for help. Something answered - a voice in the wind. Fate. - Yup - they've got instruction to make him. Rebus grinned even wider. "I've recently received a very interesting device..." Rebus raised an eyebrow, but couldn't exactly move to avoid it. - Rebus said the coordinates to his universe collider. If Rebyl looked closely, she could see what seemed be a burn scar creeping up his right forearm. - Wither-Rebus ducked, sprouting an arm to tap the side of the robot's blade. The Mordite sluggishly began to reshape itself, its edge dulling. - "I do." Rebus nodded. Then he grinned at Kyler. "I'm a Narrator - being in only one place would be a bit of a waste." "They were of Ordered Light - collections of power that survived the Dies Luxfrang." Rebus nodded. "I shall do what I can." Then he split in two, assembling a new copy of him from transient dream matter. The real him went back the way the had come, and returned to reality. He immediately - well, almost immediately - tried to teleport himself to Subversion. - Jack rushed to him, trying to catch the man before he fell - though admittedly, Jack wasn't much softer than the ground was. Lyric was rather unconscious. Jack - a man in a suit who seemed to be made out of metal - rushed over. "I can help you look - what do you do about unconscious people?" Most of Rebus's nanomachines short-circuited. It wasn't too much of a problems - that honor belonged to the robot. "Uh oh." Rebus said. And then the whole world turned to light.

Rebus smiled. “I could help you with that…” - Rebus was now certain he was wrong, though perhaps with Prismite as fuel that trick could be possible. Still, guessing further seemed like a path to either embarrassment or dangerous capabilities. - - - Mordite spikes sprung from his face as he took the blow. The shock hurt, of course, but other than some fried nanomachines the clone had no lasting damage. The spikes, on the other hand, were well suited to causing lasting damage. - Rebus laughed. “I suspected as much…” Rebus bowed his head, accepting the items - it wasn’t easy to reverently accept something that was thrown at you, but Rebus managed. “Thank you. I understand the importance of these - and I shall put the converter to good use.” - Jack had been singing with as much enthusiasm as he could muster in an attempt to cheer up Lyric, but now he was silent, looking towards the city with interest. It might have been actively being attacked or utterly destroyed, but Jack didn’t notice that yet. “I believe that the Skeins sacrificed themselves to contain it.” The current events with the Witherlord are actually a better regret than the Cricket, and I think I can write better flashbacks for them (I remember them better, and there’s more to reveal). Would the vision switch? - “Are you aware of my ultimate motivation? I’m trying to continue to exist in the Thread - a hard-to-reach backup of me and a method to increase emotional depth are certainly assets.” Rebus grinned. “As for a quest, I have somewhere to start.” His smile widened, going from cheerful to downright unnerving. “Narrators are much easier to find than Luxite, after all…” Rebus exploded into a cloud of nanomachines, reforming behind Fog in an instant. Instead of his Narrationblade, he held some sort of rifle. “I would use utility fog, but I’m not certain you’re corporal enough. Lightning should suffice.” With a grin, he fired the electrolaser.

“The second,” Rebus said, “though manipulating the style of text is another useful trick.” “You should be able to take how you changed the way you were being described, and apply it to reducing description of your thoughts instead of increasing it.” The man, dressed in a black-and-white coat glowing with lines of orange light, smiled. “You can even change the content of description drastically - all without Narration, as long as what you want written really is the truth.”

“Contained, yes. The Witherlord was locked away in the Void, and can be sent there again. Pacified is almost impossible - perhaps if the bearer of the Mantle wasn’t Malevolence, we could help them resist, but short of replacing him I do not know how we could influence it.” Rebus nodded, glad to see Ribbon was following and aiming to provide an example. “Try to bring your thoughts into the description - that’s simpler than hiding them, and easier to quantify success in.” Both can be true. Narration requires a Narrator core’s Prismite, but does involve projecting power outside oneself. There is also Chaotic Light around the Thread - that’s how Narrators regain power, and directing it makes them have more reach than they would otherwise. That’s what I think, at least - the nice thing about the Thread is that canon is what we decide it to be. Rebus scoffed. “Of course not. But are you one of those?” - Rebus smiled. “This is just I guess, but I believe you just copied yourself. This universe is permeated with magic - you may have more power here.” - This was perfectly understandable. Rebus would get her out once he could. - Rebus nodded. “Almost certainly.” Once he could read the coordinates, he teleported to them. - They’re legitimately the seed of a really good story - rewriting an old project with more recent skills is a worthwhile endeavor. - This continues below. The clone grinned - something to destroy and more Mordite. And then he frowned. He was letting the Mordite - both Chaos and Dark - get to him, but he really did want to destroy something, if only to test and show off his new powers. I shall escape, and then I shall be your blade. These powers are potent, but I shall restrain myself. The clone ducked under a blade, kicking low - his foot sprouting a Mordite spike as it made contact with the robot. - “I need to understand Luxite if I am to make my own weapon from it.” Rebus said. “It matters not if it is but a shadow.” Then the Dreamsmith spoke again, and he smiled. “Interesting…” - Jack joined him in the song, though he echoed Lyric rather than attempt to form verses.

“If the Witherlord can kill this Thread, it may be enough…” @Aeoryi “You need to start by observing when you aren’t concealed. Can you sense the Thread?”

“I’ve considered it, and it is a valid plan. Unfortunately, if I can do that, the Witherlord can follow me. Admittedly, once one hits a critical mass of randomness even an unstoppable force of destruction becomes rather ineffectual, but if the Sandwich is somehow destroyed your universe might simply cease to exist.” “Are you a Narrator, then?” Rebus asked, voice mockingly sweet. - Rebus grinned. “You’ve got powers, Rebyl.” - Atlas was evidently supersonic, since it had been a mere instant. Such was the power of Narration, of course. - Rebus smiled. “I can do Prismite. With our combined expertise and the power from your friend, I think we can make something worthwhile.” - Rebus suddenly knew things. Quite interesting things, in fact. - Even Nullite was not invincible - for if it was, nobody could make anything from it. Still, the clone followed the instructions of his ruler. Power gathered around his fist, and he punched the wall - except it wasn’t only the wall he hit. Reality cracked, space - and by extension the wall - shattering. The clone dissolved into Mordite and nanomachines, flowing through the gap and reforming outside. “I take some offense to minor, though I have ceded overt antagonism in light of the Witherlord situation.” Rebus took the beverage, though he neither needed sustenance nor was capable of actually tasting. “Malevolence holding Redemption may actually have been what allowed him to complete the ritual.” The clone understood. There was Mordite where Prismite had once been; new powers that could be tapped into much the same way his Narration had. - The count could differ depending upon what one considered to be care, of course. The Witherlord was, however, on the right track. - Rebus nodded. “That will be of use.” - Jack was worried because Lyric seemed worried, though he couldn’t tell why. Still, maybe these priests of Plot could help. “If that will help,” he said. He resolved to sing along with Lyric - the man seemed to need it. “I would argue the threat has not yet been brought to bear - and it has managed to stir engagement, since nearly every extent plot now involves him in some way.” Rebus sighed. “I can teach you the proper procedure - your magic will make it simpler than it otherwise would be.”

Rebus scoffed. “Why would I try to contain the Witherlord? I am - in some ways at least - your opposite.” “Bravery would play no part in it - a Narrator could vaporize you with a snap of their fingers, if nothing protected you. A lack of ruthlessness, however, might be the trait you claim is cowardice - or it might simply be lack of interest.” - Rebus smiled - relieved, intrigued, and unexpectedly proud. He put a hand on “his” daughter’s shoulder, replenishing her strength with a bit of Narration. - With a screech of metal and another sonic boom, a shower of sparks and rock erupted from the ground perhaps ten feet over from Fog. The blur of movement - evidently having turned - was now heading directly towards the corrupted Narrator, still supersonic and nearly impossible to see. @Through The Living Glass, my supersonic robot is very slowly trying to kill you. - “Nullite might be able to protect us, or even briefly contain the Witherlord.” Rebus nodded thoughtfully. “But this person is almost certainly helpful. Nullite is Ordered Darkness, while Prismite is Chaotic Light. Between the two...” he smiled, “we should have techniques that work on all the Essences.” - Rebus continued to watch this, trying to remember if these people had been seen before. - The clone laughed, and corrupted utility fog exploded from him, slamming into the wall. “You do not need to tell Dark Cep, but I would say I benefit from the imprisonment.” Rebus smiled. “As for Luxite, the easiest source of it is now unequivocally out of reach. It can be extracted from the Thread, but that takes an incredibly long time - the only practical method would be a quest.” Speaking of information, I really should write more of those vision flashbacks… “Ah. I suspected as much.” Rebus smiled, returning the bow with a nod. “Hiding from Narrators or Authors is a near-impossible task. The Witherlord, however, may have no capacity to perceive the Thread - if that’s the case, avoiding spies may be enough to conceal you completely.” “The simplest would be to stop being a Narrator - if you need me to speak with someone in BFtS, I can send an intermediary with an emulation of my personality.”

Rebus raised an eyebrow. “You should be dead…” and then he understood. “That’s what the Nullite is for, isn’t it?” - Rebus smiled, accepting the gratitude. - Rebyl was safe; Rebus gave a relieved grin. As safe as one could be in the epicenter of an apocalypse, at least. “Someone is looking after us, it seems. Still, if we’re going to get you home or get any help from another universe, we should get far away from here.” - Rebus was there, actually: I should have pinged you for that, or at least put them next to each other. - That’s probably a good thing. That would have been quite helpful. Unfortunately, the antidote never went farther than his palm. - “That’s certainly of use, but I’m not sure I can kill the Witherlord with it.” - Rebus watched from afar, preparing supplies and enhancements for the group. Yeah. I really should edit these better. Jack nodded. “We should, if that’s the case. Do you know where to find them?” - The clone stood, and a grin slowly spread across his face. The he spun, lighting-quick, Mordite erupting from his hand to rip through the antidote robot. @Keke, Dax may wish to stop evil(er) Rebus from enacting property damage. - That was like three people, but the dedication was appreciated. Rebus gave the Witherlord a suitably horrified gasp, so he didn’t feel too bad. - Rebus glanced at the necklace, curious as to what the Dreamsmith was doing.

“I’m raising an army and attempting to produce a weapon. Luxite is an ideal material, but is also incredibly rare.” Rebus shook his head. “I’m not certain about the prospects of others, but if we could acquire enough Luxite we may stand a chance.”

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.