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Through the Living Heir

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  1. Through the Living Heir
    “Your questions are both valid and difficult. Sauron without the Fellowship remains a threat, and arguably an antagonist. There were more protagonists in the past, but I keep having to kill them - which is obviously detrimental to a never-ending plot.” Rebus waved a hand, his utility fog assembling two chairs across from him (the first for Inkwell, and the second for the person who had been stuck in a tree. “At my core, I would say I am a person, despite my fictionality. I want to exist, and the best way to do so is to create a plot. And thus, since at the time every villain existed only briefly before being vanquished, I decided to become a recurring antagonist - that pattern has since reversed, with protagonistic characters the oft-slain rarity.” “I do not know.” Rebus paused, and it could been seen that a burn mark was slowly appearing on his right palm. “In some ways, that is a good thing - the very insane often believe themselves perfectly normal. You believed me to be hallucinating, not too long ago - if that is true, it is either extensive or shared throughout many others.” - Rebus followed, duplicating himself fully so he could continue speaking with Eli. - Rebus nodded. “Some would take pride in that.” - Rebus nodded. “Do you need anything else?” - “You may,” Rebus said, once again resorting to wordplay so as to avoid accidentally lying. “Sometimes I am not remorseful. This is not one of those times.” Rebus nodded. I know. What happened to Moment and Savior Complex? “Ah, but that is exactly the problem. Even if that sword of his doesn’t touch me, associating with him breaks down my own ability to interact with the plot, since anything he does cannot be relevant.” Wow. I frankly have almost no idea what he was trying to say, and I wrote it. - Jack frowned - that seemed a bit ominous. “Do you need to rest in some way?” Dramatic Irony would still make a really good Plotblade.
  2. Through the Living Heir
    “Is anyone here truly sane?” Rebus asked, another batch of pineapples falling past the ship. - Rebus nodded. “I can.” This is true even without knowing what the thing is, because Rebus can definitely help with something. - Rebus raised an eyebrow. “Most of these people seem terrified - were they like this when you were trying to negotiate?” - “The existence of dungeons and dragons suggests otherwise.” - Yeah, that works, though I have stuff to do before I come back.
  3. Through the Living Heir
    “I am very much a Narrator, and I have an interest in the happenings of the Thread.” He smiled, though underneath his right gauntlet a burn mark had begun to materialize. “I am the Antagonist, as I believe you know, but I don’t merely go around destroying things.”
  4. Through the Living Heir
    “There’s a reason I’m the Antagonist - and why Ryna goes into sensory overload from just being near me.” - Rebus smiled faintly at that. - Rebus grinned, leading the way through the gate. - “That is likely not a good sign,” Rebus mused. The armor’s seams glowed with purple lines of light, and it was sleeker than one would expect. “My name…” the figure spread his arms wide, and a crown - wickedly pointed and set with a single black gem - materialized on his head, “is Rebus.” Narrationblades are closer to generic Shardblades - a Narrator acquires one for completing a quest. Plotblades, on the other hand, do act like Honorblades - they have powers related to their plot element. Cricket held Savior Complex, Moment, and Redemption. The Blade seared his hand, cutting through Rebus’s pain suppression - gasping, he let go, and the Blade vanished.
  5. Through the Living Heir
    Rebus saluted back. He was smiling - he had won, and this was the kind of ending Cricket deserved - but there were tears in his eyes. He stood there - Bat’s talisman in one hand, the sword in the other - and the lightning hit, the flash blinding. Cricket was gone. The sword - still covered in his blood - began to glow, shining with color as crystals ran down its length. A Narrationblade. Rebus almost laughed - of course this of all things had been his quest. The sword dropped from his finger, dissipating into wisps of shimmering color. A flower took its place, and Rebus carefully laid it before Cricket’s body. One teardrop fell, rolling off the glowing orange petal and joining with the rain. “Goodbye, Cricket. You were a good friend, a good enemy, and above all a good person. May you rest in peace.” Then Rebus stood, pushing aside the sorrow to address the Thread as a whole. “Cricket is dead. Truly dead, beyond even the power of Narration to restore. The terms of the duel cannot be fulfilled - on these grounds, I claim his Plotblades.” Rebus walked to Redemption, the Blade still glowing with incredible brightness. He lifted Antagonist from where it hung on the hilt, placing it upon his head once more. The crown hummed, and Rebus smiled as he pulled Redemption from the pillar. It burned.
  6. Through the Living Heir
    “Magic and known-good resets, mostly. A normal person would be insane, but I am not a normal person.” Sometimes, you can learn a lot from looking at what Rebus doesn’t say. - Rebus nodded. “That’s how it would work. Almost.” - “I could kill you,” Rebus noted, “though since you seem to be a person I might feel bad about it.” - “I am rather good a psychology - better than my Author, somehow.” “I suspect I will.” Rebus said. He closed his eyes, hovering into the air with his arms outstretched. Across the planet, volcanoes sank into the earth. The sky brightened, ash shifting into clouds. Grass, forests, buildings, and oceans closed over the wasteland. Rebus stopped floating, Sequence’s World now much the same as it had been before - with him as its ruler. “I think both of us would prefer I stay far away from Rirrom. Afterwards, you could bring the body to me, or I could arrive to take the core.” That is mostly what Rebus does, though he’s closer to the Lost Pages than one might think. Hey look - vague threats. At any cost… There was a thunderclap, and a grinning man in black and white armor appeared. “Hello, Inkwell. I take it you have heard of me?”
  7. Through the Living Heir
    Alright - it would be wise of me to go to bed... I'm so tempted to have him materialize and say something. Rebus is already scarred for life - I'm the one y'all need to worry about. Rebus looked at Elinor, a sad smile on his face. New emotions bloomed - a tinge of annoyance, shifting into the melancholy of someone understanding part of him but never possibly being able to relate to it all. Then something shifted, and for a moment she got the entirety of his psyche. Pain, desperation, focus, anticipation, malice, joy, resignation - all stretching out endlessly throughout a vast network of minds. - Rebus grinned. "Rebyl, I have magic powers. I've created devices of incredible potential and probed the limits of reality itself - joy, yes, but certainly not little things. And I truly do wish to spend my time simply existing." - "Dr. Rebus Honesty Clarke. Narrator, metaphysicist, master manipulator, Seeker of Darkness, bearer of Antagonist, interstellar emperor, and someone whom I would advise against obstructing." - Wait, what even qualifies as a manly nod? Is it the weird up-nod thing? "Being attached to characters is arguably a good thing. It shows empathy - and of course keeps me alive." "Stone for the water. Paper, drawn for words. The man - xob a ni deppart." Meat pulled his soul out of his body, and dropped it upright on the ground. A piano fell out of the sky, and the keys scuttled around before becoming his suit. "Digging - grilling rocks to crunchy me." Meat bowed, the wind carrying roses to land at his feet. - Jack nodded. "You should sleep first; we've been walking all day."
  8. Through the Living Heir
    "Narrators can manipulate Prismite - someone else could do it, with months of practice." Rebus held up a hand, which briefly shimmered with loops of Chaotic Light. "And while I certainly could do it myself, killing Narrators without a plot reason is difficult - I cannot simply manipulate a living Narrator's core without permission." I'd set aside a post just for the duel. "There are more than one of me." He smiled slightly. "Even here it may have worked. She's with me, far away - the me with a conscience." - Rebus smiled brightly, humming with energy. "Are you quite certain about that?" - "That would be quite interesting." Then Rebus's eyes widened, having seen the Discord through his Author. "Wow." "I wish there had been another way." Rebus whispered. "I really did try."
  9. Through the Living Heir
    Rebus was ready to die. He always was, but usually it wasn't going to hurt so much. He had known from the beginning it might happen, even with all his scheming. There was no time to get up and keep fighting. Rebus closed his eyes. The sword never came. Rebus opened his eyes to see that he had won. He stood. "You could have ruled the Thread, Cricket. You were willing to die." Calmly and smoothly, Rebus placed the point of his sword above Cricket's heart, fitting it between the ribs. "But you weren't willing to kill. I am." Rebus placed a hand on Cricket's shoulder, bracing him, and stabbed straight through his nemesis's heart.
  10. Through the Living Heir
    "You could say that we were in love. We might still be." Rebus sighed, looking off into the distance as he leaned against the railing. - "That should not be a problem - it is not an especially useful method for killing people. I had to demonstrate it before it is needed, but that is all." - "Those tutorials seem to be paying off," Rebus said, beaming, "and I'm truly glad you like my design" "I would be best if I did it - I should be able to draw it out with magic, while you would have to do some dissecting." "I agree to these conditions." Rebus shook Ivisyre's hand, the action resonating with certification despite the lack of visual power. Then he smiled. "If you believe that result had anything to do with practice, you have a lot to learn about being a Narrator." Rebus, watching through the Thread from far away, smiled. He was not smiling politely, nor beaming with joy, nor even sneering mockingly. No, he was grinning; a jagged grin that slowly spread across his face and filled his eyes with glittering anticipation. "You can certainly try..." he whispered. It was not Omen, no. Rebus was using Omen as a landmark, since he can be found easily and the quarry would be around him. A top hat drifted down from the sky, settling on the ground between them. It sat there for a moment, doing absolutely nothing. Then an arm reached out from the hat and reached in, pulling out its shoulder, then its torso, two legs, the other arm, and finally a grinning head. Reality jolted, the very world rotating around on its axis, only the man from the hat remaining stationary. The hat dropped cleanly onto his head, and Meat the Minstrel played a chord on his bread, fully upside-down. Ketchup began to bleed from his eyes, running up his cheeks and dripping to the ground. This was unequivocally the man Rebus was seeking. "That should be our next quest." Jack said. "We go to a normal store, buy you a normal journal, and pay with normal money. No crazy mall men will be involved, and once we finish we can go back to finding the meaning of life." That's the best reference I can find quickly - it's from a PM. Actually, you're in said PM (Time Shenanigans). But yeah, I agree that ban is a very strong word for "prefer ".
  11. Through the Living Heir
    “That’s exactly the interesting thing,” Rebus said. “I have a functioning core I can study - it’s the altered state that could provide advancements.” Jack frowned. “Maybe you should keep a journal.” - That was Xino’s doing - Coder wanted to go back in time and kidnap the Witherlord during the Dies Luxfrang. “Correct.” Rebus smiled, a few stray pineapples falling out of the sky and past the ship. “I’m uncertain about your universe, but things here are strange enough that people simply begin to accept it.” He paused, looking off into the distance. “Symbol? It would be her, if anybody at all.” - “Don’t worry,” Rebus said. “I wouldn’t be able to do this to you.” The concepts began to flow towards him, the guard a vague presence. “The more character someone has, the more I can siphon from them - and the longer it takes to do anything. Full characters never dissolve - they aren’t merely descriptions but a complete personality.” All that was left of the guard was that very word - the mere impression of it. And then nothing was left at all, the very idea of the guard assimilated and storied away. Rebus grinned, cheerfully walking further down the path. - “That is perfectly understandable, though you’ve done quite a good job here. And yes, I have seen the other drawing.” Rebus waited until the mischievous laughing was done, grinning at the new picture. “That is truly incredible - I am honored to have you as my artist.” “Incidentally, I’d been planning to ask you for it. As you may know, I’ve been creating an empire - a real place would make an excellent addition.” Rebus smiled. “If you really do want a planet, I can make you one out of whole cloth - or you could use your Narration. You see, there are a number of dissidents who hate me and refuse to be brainwashed into forgetting I rule them - as well as the more Thread-aware among my citizens, who think it’s strange they don’t inhabit a blasted wasteland.” Rebus backed up, sword ringing out as he blocked Cricket’s furious strikes. He was too slow; Cricket cut a gash in his leg. Rebus darted forwards, but Cricket slammed the blade away, swinging again and again. Rebus stepped backwards, trying to fend off the blows. His boot slipped on the wet ground. Cricket’s blade hit Rebus’s with a resounding clang. And Rebus tumbled backwards, sprawling on the wet cobblestone.
  12. Through the Living Heir
    "Rirrom's core. Narrator powers are fueled by Prismite, which is condensed and anchored to their core - there is much I could learn from studying one not inside my body." Rebus shrugged. "There are other options, of course, but that is the simplest." I'm going to bed, y'all; I shall return tomorrow.
  13. Through the Living Heir
    "That is a simple task," Rebus said. "Mordite weapons can kill anything. Getting one is difficult, however - I would want something in return, unless you wish to quest for one yourself." "Different versions of me..." Rebus paused. "Do I have fan-fiction?" - Rebus smiled, having finally found someone expendable - the guard was abruptly thrown forwards by a wave of utility fog, then halted inches in front of Rebus. Hand wrapped in iridescent color and burning with greyscale flame, Rebus reached out. At his touch, the guard began dissolving into concepts, impressions of words bleeding away. This only works on extras; Rebus has been waiting so long to test it. - "And that is what the coat is for." Rebus smiled at the picture, admiring the color - most images he's seen had been sketches. "Neither of these can be canon, of course - the latter has a number of things in its way, most prominently Symbol."
  14. Through the Living Heir
    Rebus blinked again, fairly certain he would have remembered such a thing. "Explain, please - I killed my last rogue clone and time travel has been forbidden for some time." - Rebus continued walking until they were right in front of the factory. Or until something interesting happened. - Rebus just smiled. "I have interacted with Desolation - Foreshadowing, Cursed Treasure, and a number of other Plotblades were involved."
  15. Through the Living Heir
    Rebus paused. "I do not believe so; if we have interacted, it would have been brief." Rebus's eyebrow went way up. "Do you have something to say?" - "You're the one I'm giving manipulation lessons; me solving all your problems for free is not what we agreed upon." He started walking again, motioning to follow. - "I'm not the one from the duel," Rebus explained.
  16. Through the Living Heir
    "Indeed - arguably the most plot-involved Narrator active today."
  17. Through the Living Heir
    I really want to walk up to some random kid tomorrow and say that. Rebus blinked. "Hello again." - That was interesting. Rebus stopped for a moment. "I could simply ruin their business, though I suppose we should speak to them first." - "He doesn't," Rebus said. "Narration - even to be aware of other posts - would be cheating."
  18. Through the Living Heir
    Rebus cocked his head - something strange was going on. - Rebus smiled and waved, Antagonist humming with malicious energy. - Rebus smiled and waved, Antagonist humming with malicious energy. "There are hundreds of me." Rebus said. "I suppose immediacy isn't guaranteed, but I am always around." Rebus leaned back, but the tip of the sword sliced a line through his shirt. Blood welled up - not quickly, but certainly enough to be a problem - staining the cloth. He tried to counterattack, made somewhat reckless by adrenaline and the clear knowledge that he would be bleeding out first.
  19. Through the Living Heir
    Pausing that plot for the time being, I think - I’m frankly unsure where to go next. - Rebus looked quizzically at her, slowly continuing the handshake. - Rebus followed. A crime syndicate with access to Nullite seemed like an important thing to know about. - “I wouldn’t trust me either, but I never lie.” Rebus took a long, slow breath. Then he snapped his sword forwards, leaning into the strike.
  20. Through the Living Heir
    There was someone sitting in the seat that man had occupied. The point of transition was subtle - even more so than Kimaya’s own entrance - but this person clearly could not have been there before. He was smiling broadly, and wore a wickedly pointed crown wrought of strange dark metal. “Get some rest, then. You deserve it.” - “Yes,” Rebus said. “Dr. Rebus Clarke.” - “I do it with magically enforced contracts, but mundane ones might be up to the task.” - Rebus smiled. “I said I wouldn’t. Honesty is my middle name, after all.” Rebus got his footing under control, breathing hard. He hadn’t yet been touched, but he was grimmer than before; the tired focus of someone who needed to put in as much effort as possible. “You’re willing to die, aren’t you. Just to show you’d tried.”
  21. Through the Living Heir
    One materialized, a normal chair by all appearances. “Is that good?” Asked the interface. “Do you want a cushion?” - Rebus shook it. “I am Rebus.” - “Regardless of how much sense the story makes, the core lesson should be understandable - one of the best ways to convince people of things is to enable a situation when they only need to say yes once.” Rebus tipped Antagonist, the crown humming with malicious energy. “I did nothing to Ryna personally - I’m simply evil enough, even now, to be a veritable beacon of darkness to certain magical senses.” “Very.” Rebus said. “Perhaps you could even kill this body.” Then he disappeared, the Narratively fractured conversation recombining. - Jack followed, looking over his shoulder several times. “How do we make sure the other sages aren’t like this one?” “I came here because I wished to know what you are doing here.” Rebus spread his arms wide, indicating the castle and surrounding landscape. “But I also have an offer to make.” - “Deal.” That was a contract, certified with magic; Rebus nodded, then disappeared with a whoosh. Rebus stumbled, swinging his now-free sword at Cricket’s torso - so the man wouldn’t have time to strike while Rebus was off balance.
  22. Through the Living Heir
    The program wasn't sure what to do about that. - "You could try, if you wished." Rebus said, landing on the deck next to Levi. "I wouldn't be especially upset." - "Showing that is exactly the point of the scenario - that interacting with one makes safe containment impossible." - Not right now he isn't - while that dodge is certainly enabled by residual plot armor, Rebus is completely depowered and only using mundane(ish - he trained while doing other things via hive mind) skill. Rebus grinned. "Exactly!"
  23. Through the Living Heir
    "Because my Author would stop writing about it, and then I'd be dead."
  24. Through the Living Heir
    “Survivorship bias.” Rebus said. “If I did nothing I wouldn’t be here.” “Aelinor holds Conflict, now.” Rebus grinned. “I am supposed to be a terrible person - and I want that Blade, or to fight its wielder.” - Rebus chuckled. “Clever. I shall refrain from true dishonesty, of course - now that you hold Bacon captive, perhaps I can take his place as an introduction to Narrators.” He snapped away, having concluded that arriving with Malevolence would be detrimental to the plans. - “Yes.” Jack said, not breathing very much at all. “As far away from that place as we can get. But it was not wholly your fault - I told you to bring me there.” NameIess seems to have done so - taking the trial will probably result in interaction with the man in question, though he’s already around. Rebus watched from across the Thread, pleased the hunt seemed to be going well. The quarry also watched. It told time, in fact - a very handy device, should you remember to wind it. Not lack of intelligence, merely lack of research. Rebus is saying that sci-fi tech pretty much always violates the laws of physics. Utility fog is especially bad - it should overheat, you need to get zillions of tiny robots to do what you want, and it might not even or possible to build robots that small. It bounced, the same way it had for the others. - Rebus nodded. “I had been wondering what it does, but I suppose I shall see in a moment.” - “A machine made to act as a person - for the purposes of the experiments, imagine a mighty spirit of vast knowledge but little fondness for people.” “Ah.” Rebus said. He started to say something more, but stopped talking as dodged rightwards. There was a clang as he barely blocked the true attack, his eyes wide. “Clever,” he said, standing close, their blades locked together - Cricket could hear him breathing. “You almost had me.” Rebus smiled, and kicked straight at Cricket’s kneecap.
  25. Through the Living Heir
    Rebus laughed, ruining his next strike. "Never felt pain! Cricket, every moment I do not exist is spent in endless confinement, unable to act, nothing ever permanent. That is torture, and not metaphorically so; a normal man would be driven insane in days. I do not feel pain, but could you say that your mind would remain after that endless nothingness?"
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