Ruins of Khazan - Part 1: All Things Among Fallen Leaves

[Sharpandpointies]

From the corner of her eye, Krys notes Ván taking her leave and mentally sighs. They had hoped everyone would stick together, but clearly expecting that from a group of strangers is a tad optimistic. Perhaps they'll meet again, somewhere in the city, and hopefully in a friendly fashion; Krys feels they can expect THAT much, given how things have proceeded so far between Ván, Jane, and themselves. It's a pity, though; this little group certainly could have used Ván's assistance.

Well, nothing for it but to continue.

In terms of Jane, that woman seems rather surprised that Krys would offer her help against Nekro. To that, Krys can only give a small, helpless shrug and smile; they've never been good at passing by people in need, and Jane seems to qualify. Not to say she's incapable of helping herself, no; but her circumstances - and those brief flashes of emotion - indicate she could use some support, here, and Krys is only too happy to provide. And if that means going up against a god? I'm broken already. Why not spend whatever life this body has left in it helping someone? And if I fall?

So be it.

They listen carefully to Jane's words, seeking and parsing, trying to find the emotional meaning behind them. There's a lot going on under that metallic skin, Krys figures; Jane is running face-first into a whole lot of new concepts, they guess, given the description given by the...assassin? warrior? of her slavery. Finally the words run down, Jane growing more quiet; Krys shoots a short glance to Trevor, eyebrow raised, and drops their hand off the other woman's shoulder, turning away to watch Ván walk for the city gates. "I feel I need to clear something up," they slowly begin. "I have no 'directive' to help you, any more than the programming all life struggles under. I don't like slavery, that's true, and that comes under a broader idea that everything, everyone deserves freedom. But having met you, I don't like what has been done to you, Jane, in a personal way. Not just as a concept, but...you. You deserve better than the cruel treatment you've received."

Biting their lip, they watch the Sixth traveller approach. "As for being a 'great warrior'..." They cough, somewhat embarrassed. "I have been. Sort of. And I have all of those skills still rattling around up here." One finger taps their temple. "Along with a few other ideas." Durga is long-gone from Krys, but echoes remain of both the god's and Kris' skills. And their experience outside of All Things, in Time out of Time has taught them surprisingly much. "But...my body is weak." Damaged. "I don't know what use I will be. Even so, sometimes a war isn't about who is the most powerful." Their smile grows feral for an instant. "Often it's about who finds a weak point and exploits it, or fakes out the other side and uses that. Or many other things that don't have anything to do with raw power. Sometimes it's just about talking, even." They shrug again, their smile now rueful. "Maybe this is a fight that can't be won by blows...but that doesn't mean there isn't another way to take victory."

Glancing back at Jane, Krys snorts; it's not a particularly decorous exhalation. "I was happy to assist with your repair, Jane. You needed it, I provided...and I can do so again if need be, in the future. As for your 'software maintenance'...of what irrationality do you speak? I've seen nothing as of yet, myself. Emotions, certainly, but nothing more." Their tone remains mild, but a slight edge slips in, sharpening their words a hair. "I would suggest that your handlers did not have your well-being in mind. It's pretty clear they wanted you to remain their weapon. Any deviations from that...well, I would guess they would do their best to purge such things." Their lips thin as they stare back toward the city, at Ván's back. "After all, they wouldn't want you to develop your own thoughts, your own feelings. Your own individuality."

"That might end with you questioning a few things. Dangerous...for them, not you."

Shifting gears, they raise one finger to indicate the approaching Sixth. "It looks as if we're about to have more company. I hope they're bringing food; it has been a while since I've eaten."

Eternity, really.

And speaking of which...Krys feels the bite of the wind against the cuts on their hands and winces. They should really do something about those injuries...but it would mean another struggle to press their perception outside of entropic time, bringing those jagged-edged echoes of their experience in Time out of Time back to the fore. Even dimmed and faded, they remain a hollow gnawing in Krys' guts. No, better to suffer the sting of the wounds for the moment and hope they slowly heal despite the faults in this body.

The echoes never will.

[Postmania]

Jane watches as Van speaks a few words more to the armored figure, and then simply departs through the gate. Reconnaissance? Or perhaps called to the city, in a similar manner as Jane.

Well, she was always free to go.

Some part of Jane feels oddly relieved in this.

"Some of your conclusions do match my prior experience," she replies, her words still coming a bit slowly. "Particularly regarding weakpoints."

Jane pictures a head, exploding from one of her shots.

Krys then turns to other topics, and Jane tries to take in some of their thoughts. She thought that if it had been mere months ago, Jane would have laughed off some of these theories, but something about them did not seem so foreign to her at this moment, though she was unsure why.

"Individuality," she said thoughtfully, rolling the word around in her thoughts. "Questioning. This conversation continues to give me items to think about," she says, simply offering a nod to Krys' in thanks this time.

She glances backwards at the new figure.

"So it seems. Not that I truly believed it," Jane said, her voice seeming to take on more of the self-assurance from earlier, "but signs of hunger do seem to contradict any theory of us being dead."

Jane studied the figure approaching for a moment. They appeared human, but had some additional aspects to their appearance, perhaps as some sort of armor. She turned back to the figure in front of her, wondering how many other individuals she would meet in this place, in particular how many she would meet and also not wish to kill. It was an odd, new anticipation, but Jane was growing more accustomed to that.

[Sharkerbob]

After two successful bounds, Nemo could already feel the drain on her reserves. She opted to walk the rest of the way, not just to save energy, but because she wasn’t sure how the group ahead would take to someone dropping down with a sudden rush into their midst. She’d cleared the densest part of the corpses, enough there was almost a straight path the rest of the way. The distance she’d managed to cover with each leap was disappointing, but at least she knew what she had to work with there.

She really should take full stock of her remaining powers, but given how shallow her inner pool of energy seemed to be, she’d likely run right through it just testing certain things. Better to find a way to recover more and take assessment of the current situation in the meantime. She approached with a calm, steady stride. Physically, she felt mostly fine after the quick heal, at least fine enough she wasn’t worried about being able to react to sudden danger. She stood with a collected air, showing neither weakness nor hostility.

She took a quick assessment of the group. A somewhat androgynous figure with white hair and a bronze complexion, wearing casual street clothes; Nemo pegged the figure as female, mostly on a hunch. There was something about her that struck Nemo as… “indistinct”? There was something slightly off in her stance, a touch of uncanny valley for a human, but not something Nemo could quite place.

Near her was another woman, some sort of gynoid. What at first glance seemed a tightly worn outfit was some kind of chassis, highlighted with lines of glowing green. Near the two of them was a young man in ragged clothes, with a strangely ornate knife on his person.

A little further off was what had to either be a robot or an especially large man in impressively built armor. Possibly a cyborg? Next to the giant—well, walking away from the giant, now—was a young woman in a simple tunic, carrying an exotic-looking sword.

“Quite the eclectic crew,” said Rae in a low voice.

“Not the weirdest we’ve encountered,” whispered Nemo. “Remember, let me talk some first.”

The woman’s sudden departure, which none of the others followed denoted this was perhaps not an already attached group. The giant had turned to attend to a drone of some sort, while the other three were still in conversation. If they had noticed her, Nemo didn’t seem to be of special noteworthiness. No one was whipping out weapons or suddenly glowing threateningly or taking a defensive martial stance yet. That could mean any number of things, but it was likely just that everyone here was a stranger, no one quite sure what to do in this situation.

She came to a stop about twenty feet from the trio. She gave a small smile and said, “Greetings. Might I trouble you for some information? I’m afraid we’ve only just arrived here by some rather unusual means.”

Before any of the others could respond, Rae made her hat wiggle a bit in something akin to a wave, as she hopped once on Nemo’s head. “Hi!” the living cloth said with a chipper voice. “Y'all get shat through a cosmic strainer, too?”

“Can't take you anywhere,” muttered Nemo.

[Sharpandpointies]

Ah, weakpoints. Krys abounds with them, they know. They're also pretty good at finding them - weak points that can be used to subdivide, weak points in arguments (something they have given up, mostly), weak points in the infinite...well, that last, they're uncertain about these days. Now, though, Krys merely studies Jane as the woman considers their discussion. It's providing plenty of food for thought for Krys, as well. Nekro...helping Jane...this is likely to lead to their death. And what then? What happens to Krys, after death? Oh, different universes have different theories and realities, even their 'old' universe. They knew what would likely happen there. But here? 'Now'? After Svātantrya, after their 'return' to entropic existence (mostly)?

"Ashen death," they sigh before pulling themselves together, rubbing their palms briskly. "Well, it seems to have us both thinking. Perhaps Trevor as well." Her gaze follows Jane's, sliding back to the approaching - and now walking - Sixth, and a real smile breaks Krys' reserve. Had that been humour from Jane? It's rather good to see her turn to face the incoming Sixth fully; the twisting of her body around it's joints is a marvel of design - natural or otherwise - but a touch odd to observe for someone with more limited freedom of movement. "I don't particularly feel dead, so unless death is something else here...or 'here' is death, in truth...I'll cast my vote along with your for 'alive'."

For now.

It occurs to her that Jane likely knows a great deal about weak points, herself, but it's not the time to discuss; they have company.

The one approaching them appears roughly human-form, but with overgrown antenna or ears on their head, sprouting from under the hat and through the hair. Ears, Krys finally decides; large, furred ears, much like a hare's. She - assuming it is female - wears vaguely familiar clothing to Krys. Certainly it's not something outlandish by the standards of her previous culture, those memories faded and dim; perhaps it might be a trifle fantastic, a trifle out of date as well? Hard to say. Facing the possibly-woman directly, Krys waits, much like Jane. "It should be all right, Trevor. They don't appear hostile." It's a convenient lie; Krys has no idea how 'hostile' might appear for this woman. But best to keep the boy calm, and themselves as well, by staying positive. A pity it's not working out as Krys had hoped; despite her veneer of calm, she remains a paper bag filled with shards of glass.

And the biggest question regards when those sharp edges will start slicing their way out.

The Sixth stops some distance away and offers a smile. A good start. A request for information follows, also good. Then the...cloth she wears takes on a life and voice of its own, and Krys blinks, somewhat taken off her guard - by the being, rather than the language. Living? Animate? Technological intelligence? Impossible to say just yet. Rude? Seemingly so. Krys presses their lips together pensively, their head cocking slightly before they break into a smile of their own. "Information, of course. No objections here. Please ask your questions." Her gaze flicks to regard the cloth...being...directly. "Hello. Do you always speak this way, or is it just an attempt to shock?"

Best get that out of the way early.

[grampagen]

The boot on the back of her head twist and Kinu felt her teeth scrape against the stone of the arena floor. In an instant, the ritual glyphs bristled. Face down in the arena, if she hadn't realized her cage before, it was the moment that the Homulculus drew the final unholy seal with her blood.

That was the moment the spell was sealed, and she knew only pain., not in the way sweat wicks at a fever or blood pushes through wounds.

"Mm mm." Sweet, taunting, the voice over her back. The weight on the back of her neck eased for a moment.

Then she saw stars, her ears rang. The pain flooded through her senses, and with the shock, her mind withdrew inside of her to try and make sense of it all.

The Homunculus had a name once. In another life, the wild folk of the lightning plains offered their hearts to her and called her the Feathered Serpent. In the Western Lands, she roused her petty kingdom and consumed tribe after tribe outside the walls until they all bowed and scraped before her on the Thunderplains. To a Warrior of the Wasteland, this was only one stop on a path that came crashing towards the Walled City, a thing as inevitable the tide. When she passed through this gargantuan Storm of the West, she was indeed a worthy opponent for a time, but where the Feathered Serpent had her fill of cruel victories, she hadn't the hunger, the ambition to realize more. In the end Kinu had emerged victorious when she shattered her spine over her knee and threw her from the pyramid through her sacrificial altar of stone.

To the little people, she had thought she'd set them free. Yet the Magi had been watching even then, scheming behind beady crystal eyes that saw far beyond their little wards. They brought this sacrificial warmonger back wrong, biding their time with the sorcery knit into reanimating her flesh.

Propping her face up upon her cheek, Kinu sucked in a breath and pulverized concrete spilled into her lungs. One bleary eye flit open; She had not come alone, why was the arena silent? Her eye flit in its socket, left, right, up...

A knee ground upon the small of her back and she felt her scalp seize as the undead monstrosity cranked her neck upward, and she found the Feathered Serpent had not been the only one changed. She'd discarded the Noh mask as part of her ritual challenge, but felt her skin split in hard breaks like shattered ice over her face between the Homunculus' fingers. Twisting her jaw, she heard a rough, crinkled grinding, and a dull light had flooded the eye that had been ground into the pavement, and she could not blink the burning away for her eyelid had shattered and sloughed off.

But the smell of blood and ash that pronounced the stilled silence carried between every stifled breath and she realized what had been done to those who followed her, and a muffled, frothing utterance caked in red spittle escaped Kinu as she thrashed futilely in her opponent's grip.

"Look at what you've done." Her voice had the same, patronizing bent to it as she had when she was once petty queen. "They didn't have a choice. You made it for them and they followed you here."

Kinu's breath raised with her fury, and so did the pain as she writhed ineffectually. The fissure in the bloodied flesh now split from ear to ear as the Homunculus pulled. The once Feathered Serpent reached her cold, undead hands down, and her world inverted as she was held aloft, and stretched over the back of the undead one clasping over her throat and leg.

"You were never afraid to lose face before, a little barbarian with your little lies. You couldn't resist, could you? Convincing them that you were something greater, that you could challenge a god! The Great Kinu roused their hopes, and for all that...nothing. And this time, you won't be returning!"

The Homunculus pulled, twisting the Warrior of the Wasteland over broad shoulders with the relish of retribution.

"Funny that the curse would fall upon your head so quickly. We can end this quickly, all you have to do is accept it-"

Then suddenly quaking through the streets, there was a great rush of heat and dust. Kinu sputtered and choked on her laughter.

They finally brought the hammer down. The foundation between their feet began to shake with the ferocity of a waking giant, but what the undead one saw that Kinu could not struck deeper into her heart of horrors.

"No. No no no! It wasn't supposed to go this way!"

In the aftershock, the Homunculus' grip slipped from her neck, and where she stumbled, Kinu found new strength. Draped over her shoulders, she reached back, felt for familiar joints, and seizing a wrist and elbow, when she wrenched the arm back her shoulder buckled inward.

"You..." A guttural edge took her voice. Half broken, blind with pain, filtered red flooded her periphery as the magic etched into the city bled into the chaos that crept in from beyond the walls. "You took them away from me. The Magi...took everything else...!"

Swinging one leg over, she locked her feet together and clamped over her adversary's head, and the homunculus lurched desperately.

"I am Quetzalcoatl! Blood and stone and soul, where the Western Wind blows is mine by divine right!"

She spat a lot of words, but for all her brawn, this one didn't even have fangs or claws.

Kinu squeezed her knees and threw herself into one last, desperate Hurricanrana. There remained none but them to witness this, but lack of style or otherwise, when she hit the arena floor, she knew it was over.

Gasping for breath, Kinu wiped the blood from her eyes and the stinging fissures over her cold face. She reached between her legs, kneading fingers through tresses of dirty blonde and lift it up to behold milky eyes, undead lids still twitching where they set the upper crown snapped off from the jaw.

"And how do you feel now, knowing that the magic was not really meant for you?"

Limping off to the corner with Quetzalcoatl's head in one hand, she found her coat. A tapestry of trophies, each a memento of her journey of conquests, she lift it from the ground. The ceramic Noh mask spilled from the sleeve and shattered where it fell. That was when Kinu felt the cruel winds blowing into the arena beneath an ink-black sky. Wine-red runes spiralled from the incantations that wove a dome over the city, but where the fog of Ruin lashed against it, it was like lashing straw and dust against a red-hot iron that branded letters into this artificial world.

"Previously undisputed, the witches, the magi, but tonight..." she said weakly, and let the head fall from her grasp. Girding the coat over her bloodied body, the fur and sinew clumped together and the seams kinked as she gathered the lapels together. The thirteen districts carried the balance of mana, and they had just upended it to pandemonium.

"Let's call it."

The earth shook, the air froze, and everything began to fill with a cruel, empty void of burning white. East, West, North, South, they'd shattered the walls. In the middle of it all, Kinu fell to her knees and let her head hang, eyes unblinking as the wails of millions filled her ears.

"One. Two-"

[grampagen]

PROLOGUE: THE JOURNEY

*snip*

All this and a thousand thousand more, you leave a trail of confusion, disarray and destruction across the face of all creation as you, something that should not be in that world, momentarily collides with it.

Your journey is from one place to another but to Khazan is to travel through all places.

You lose count of the steps, you lose all sense of how long this has been your existance and for a moment you fear that this will just be your life for the rest of time and then suddenly it stops.

The steps stop.

You stop.

You are covered in small wounds and are bewildered by the sheer sensory overload of perceiving so many things so fast.

Your feet touch solid ground and, for once, it does not instantly shift into somewhere else. You collapse slightly, stumbling as if pushed and you realise you have arrived at the end of your journey.

Before you is a gate, higher than any that you have ever seen before or since. Something in you knows that this isn't just "a gate", this is perhaps the idea of "gate" made manifest. What all other gates are informed by. As you look at it, the moment your attention wanders, its composition and design changes incrementally. If asked, you would be unable to say what specifically had changed but after a few moments of inattention, you would suddenly realise what was once great varnished timbers is now stone is now metal is now bones is now solidified magical force and so on.

It is constantly shifting but when you look to try and catch it in the act of changing, the gate remains static and impenetrable.

The gate is set into a set of walls that loom impossibly higher than the gate itself. That same thing in you knows that it would not be possible to climb or fly over the walls for, despite you thinking you could see the top from the ground, they could stretch up into infinity. They are always tall enough to seem imposing.

The walls rush away in either direction, at some point in the far off distance seeming to curve. Behind you is a great ocean of dark stardust, endlessly deepy with small ripples that cause translucent lights and sparks to dance in its depths. Above is an impossibly complex aurora of points of light joined by shimmering strings of energy. You suspect that you might be looking at all possible creation from the outside.

It is quite, there is a light breeze that slightly disturbs the innumerable fallen leaves on the ground. There are a number of dead bodies from beings of dozens of species around you, the variety of wounds and states of the bodies suggest that they did not survive the journey as you have. Some are in pieces, some just skeletons, some on fire, all still and definitely dead.

The gate ahead of you is open, just wide enough for a horse to pass through and what lies beyond it awaits.

What happens to those who linger after the end? As a matter of course, as the moment slipped into the past folks would look back upon it, pulling threads of the event together that it might stay aloft forever. The memory that lived on, that was the proof that one had existed, and the words carrying the story, that shaped the stuff legends were made of.

But for the Warrior of the Wasteland, she knew that there were no songs to be sung here, not an utterance made, for none who witnessed this clash yet lived to tell the tale.

For Kinu, she found that though she bled, she did not die. The burning white of the Walled City spread about her, leaving her breathless, piercing light filling her eyes no matter how tightly they shut, carrying with it a disorientated sensation as if it pushed through her body.

Was this it then, the last flickering bit of a death dream? Though the strange visions passed through her with every step she took, it was all so detached from what she had been, what she had known. Not a single vista had been from the Wild to the City of the Magi, not a single thing familiar to memory or sense.

Yet the passage with every footfall compelled her forward.

I remain..., her thoughts echoed, I am...myself...

After a time, there came a distance where Kinu succumbed. Buckled over on all fours, she felt weakness crawling through her limbs like a sickness, and the burning pit in her chest stuck to her insides, the final cinders languishing as though if she should so much as twitch, they would be cast off. When she found the piles of the fallen before the gate, that guarded impulse kept her from moving forward for a time.

I remain...but...who will know...?

Her teeth pressed together, she felt her lips click against them. Where facial muscles knit together she felt the edges of her mouth crack and bleed, and with a wild shout she drove her boot into the ground and forced herself to stand. Stepping over the bones, pressing her stride atop the corpses, though she knew not where she was, Kinu, in a fashion, had known this path before.

Before she'd met the others, she had been alone, stalking the wilds, crossing the blasted heath. Aimless, the way it had been before she'd built for herself a path marked by victory.

The only road she could have ever known; she would find it again, otherwise...

Toward wherever this Gate led, she pressed on.

[Sharkerbob]

The Sixth stops some distance away and offers a smile. A good start. A request for information follows, also good. Then the...cloth she wears takes on a life and voice of its own, and Krys blinks, somewhat taken off her guard - by the being, rather than the language. Living? Animate? Technological intelligence? Impossible to say just yet. Rude? Seemingly so. Krys presses their lips together pensively, their head cocking slightly before they break into a smile of their own. "Information, of course. No objections here. Please ask your questions." Her gaze flicks to regard the cloth...being...directly. "Hello. Do you always speak this way, or is it just an attempt to shock?"

Best get that out of the way early.

"I hate it when they just call me out right off the bat," muttered Rae, snuggling herself firmly on Nemo's head in some clothy approximation of a pout.

Nemo rolled her eyes up to give her partner a pointed look. "I told you to let me talk first." She shook her head and made a little wave towards her hat. "Please do not mind her, she snarks when she's stressed."

"And when it's funny!"

"Yes, yes, now shush." Nemo looked back to the woman who had spoken. "Firstly, introductions. My name is Nemo, and this," she gestured to the hat again, "is Rae. We are wayfarers by trade."

OOC: Nemo listens to whoever opts to identify themselves, replying with a "nice to meet you". She does not extend a handshake, nor bow, nor step closer, however; despite a polite demeanor, she doesn't drop her guard. If no one introduces themselves back, then she proceeds to questions after a couple moments.

"No pressure to answer, but if I may ask, how is it you all came to be here? Do you know where this is, and what is the story behind that strange Gateway? Were you affiliated with one another prior? Are you here on instruction, or was this an unplanned stop over?"

Rae, to her credit, stayed silent. Her opening bit was mostly forced bravado; she didn't want to actually stir up trouble.

[Nik Hasta]

After so long in the same environment, it seemed almost laughably ironic that not enough an hour had passed since she had arrived and already the lack of a static local was beginning to slightly grate. Navigation should have been a literal cakewalk for someone with the memory capacity she possessed...but it counted for nothing when the streets decided to reassign on a whim.

It was at the next crossroad however that it was made obvious she wasn't completely alone...and a variety of sounds, each more dangerous then the last, made themselves heard down nearly every avenue. However, it was the sounds of distress that caught her attention the most. Someone human(possibly) was in trouble nearby....perhaps someone lost like her, or a native to the city. Either way, it could not be ignored...perhaps the feint hope of a human who could answer her questions outweighed the obvious danger.

Ella took the path towards the cries, quickly but cautiously.

Ella heads down the street toward the growls and screaming. On her right, she spies a reasonably large courtyard lined with columns that (currently) look vaguely Mediterranean in origin. She immediately sees the source of the screaming.

Against the far wall from her position, on the left hand side of the courtyard, a pair of large creatures are chewing on the remains of some poor human soul who is now definitely dead. The beasts doing the eating are large, notionally dog-shaped in form but quite a bit bigger than any dog Ella has seen in her sheltered life. They are made of twisted rippling muscular strands that don't seem to make sense as a physical system. They have two sets of eyes at the top of long fanged snouts that spark with a deep red flame and their bodies are giving off small whisps of smoke. As this pair rip out entrails out of a corpse, Ella spots another, slightly larger horrific dog creature menacing another figure.

The figure is humanoid, but clearly mechanical. It has slightly asymmetrical features and curious little growths of tessalated metal that protrude from its body in seemingly random places. It looks, perhaps poorly built? Its movements are jerky and imprecise. The creature menacing it does not seem like it is in a rush to attack, possibly unsure of whether it can consume something that is made of metal and rivets rather than soft flesh.

None of the creatures have noticed Ella at this point.

The words reach her ironically a second too late, by which time she pays almost as little attention to the figure as it pays to her. Making her somewhat of a hypocrite perhaps, but her attention has moved beyond that kind of self-awareness to a more pressing concern.

"I see." Just a few moments before she might have been offended, but there was no place for that kind of thing now. She settled instead of a light barb in return to the insult. "I would have expected a world that reaches the level of creating something like your armor would have figured out that common decency is something performed for one's own dignity rather than simply benefiting others, but it looks like advancement follows different branches."

She turned around and started walking away, trying to keep her motions as carefree as when she'd approached. It was a pretense more for herself than for anyone else, trying to keep up the pretense of her own civility. She sent a glance at the others just to make sure nothing bad had occurred, then headed right for the doors without another word. She'd already shared what little she knew about the place with them, which would hopefully be enough to repay Krys for the help granted. And if not... Well, it would hardly be the first time she proved an ungrateful wretch. Following the whimsy of her being was much more important at the moment, before she chained herself down with more friendships or obligations. She was free of such niceties for the first time in her current life, and she didn't intend to pick them up again so soon after escaping them.

To the doors, then, and whatever invisible thing it was that was beckoning her further.

Ván passes through the doors and mounts the stairway leading to the viewing platform. She is greeted with the same view that greeted Ella some minutes earlier. The great tree dominating the skyline, the warped and turbulent space over the eastern side (from her point of view) sending the district drifting through the air, the darkening and burning red cloud the hung over another part of the city illuminated with red light. The city of Khazan appears chaotic, increasingly so.

However, her attention is drawn to the top of the tree. That pull, that impetus within her that called to her to enter this place, she can tell that it lies at the apex of the megaflora. As she looks up at the top of the tree, she feels like she can see almost a glint or glare in her eyes, like there is some kind of tiny pinprick of light shining through the innumerable branches that is of unimaginable brightness.

She can feel that power of it, even at this range, she can feel the raw power lying up in those branches and it speaks to her that the glory she seeks may be found there.

The main concourse lies open before her, quiet and largely deserted except for a scattering of more corpses and the ubiquitous drifts of fallen leaves.

"I hate it when they just call me out right off the bat," muttered Rae, snuggling herself firmly on Nemo's head in some clothy approximation of a pout.

Nemo rolled her eyes up to give her partner a pointed look. "I told you to let me talk first." She shook her head and made a little wave towards her hat. "Please do not mind her, she snarks when she's stressed."

"And when it's funny!"

"Yes, yes, now shush." Nemo looked back to the woman who had spoken. "Firstly, introductions. My name is Nemo, and this," she gestured to the hat again, "is Rae. We are wayfarers by trade."

OOC: Nemo listens to whoever opts to identify themselves, replying with a "nice to meet you". She does not extend a handshake, nor bow, nor step closer, however; despite a polite demeanor, she doesn't drop her guard. If no one introduces themselves back, then she proceeds to questions after a couple moments.

"No pressure to answer, but if I may ask, how is it you all came to be here? Do you know where this is, and what is the story behind that strange Gateway? Were you affiliated with one another prior? Are you here on instruction, or was this an unplanned stop over?"

Rae, to her credit, stayed silent. Her opening bit was mostly forced bravado; she didn't want to actually stir up trouble.

GM Note to Nemo and Rae

spoilers:

Having drawn closer to the gates of the city or perhaps simply from having been in this place long enough to acclimate, the pair feel two new and strange feelings. The first is the light tug of that hook in their soul that dragged them across all of creation to get here. Whatever power had drawn them to this city is very much still present and is gently guiding them toward the city gates. The feeling is pretty abstract but, if Nemo were pushed to give a voice to it, it would be saying "the power and knowledge you seek awaits you in this place," The second is more curious, an absence of a feeling more than presence of one. Like the hum of an everyday appliance that the brain eventually filters out, Nemo and Rae have always been unconsciously aware of their connection to their author while within the Scribed Lands. It was perhaps a sensation of clarity, purpose and meta-textual awareness, they knew that there was a purpose guiding their world and, to some extent, their actions on a very deep level. Written into their bones perhaps. However, now, at this moment, they can no longer feel the guiding hand of their creator on their actions and they are beset with a somewhat confusing sense of emptiness, of absence. It is hard to explain what feels wrong precisely, Nemo and Rae both have their own personages exterior to Sharkerbob and they are in no way diminished or changed for this apparent severance but the change is there. In this moment, the weight of their journey and the reality of their situation has become apparent to them.

end of spoilers

[Sharkerbob]

GM Note to Nemo and Rae

spoilers:

Having drawn closer to the gates of the city or perhaps simply from having been in this place long enough to acclimate, the pair feel two new and strange feelings. The first is the light tug of that hook in their soul that dragged them across all of creation to get here. Whatever power had drawn them to this city is very much still present and is gently guiding them toward the city gates. The feeling is pretty abstract but, if Nemo were pushed to give a voice to it, it would be saying "the power and knowledge you seek awaits you in this place," The second is more curious, an absence of a feeling more than presence of one. Like the hum of an everyday appliance that the brain eventually filters out, Nemo and Rae have always been unconsciously aware of their connection to their author while within the Scribed Lands. It was perhaps a sensation of clarity, purpose and meta-textual awareness, they knew that there was a purpose guiding their world and, to some extent, their actions on a very deep level. Written into their bones perhaps. However, now, at this moment, they can no longer feel the guiding hand of their creator on their actions and they are beset with a somewhat confusing sense of emptiness, of absence. It is hard to explain what feels wrong precisely, Nemo and Rae both have their own personages exterior to Sharkerbob and they are in no way diminished or changed for this apparent severance but the change is there. In this moment, the weight of their journey and the reality of their situation has become apparent to them.

end of spoilers

A slight shiver passed through the two of them as they neared the gathering. No, Nemo realizes, moreso because they neared the Gateway. A slight giddy nervousness mixed with a sting of trepidation. There was mystery here, purpose here, a goal, but at the same time, there was a subtle lack of assurance. Before, she could be reasonably certain whatever path she set on, it would result in some sense of accomplishment. Here, though, she knew, in her gut, with certainty, that the kid gloves were suddenly off.

Whether it was the Imaginators or their Author setting up the dominos, there had at least been dominos. It was not like it had ever been impossible to fail at anything, the two had almost died a few times, but the wins were more frequent than the losses, and the losses had always managed to be mitigated just enough to keep them from falling into truly bad, lasting circumstances. There had always been a sense of... innate confidence, perhaps, underpinning their journeys. Sure, they’d almost died a few times, had lost a couple fortunes in risky ventures, but even the worst situations they’d been in, there had always been something that kept them from going all the way over the brink. It was a… faith, of a sort. One so subtle, they hadn’t even realized it was there until they now noticed its absence.

For the first time, they knew what it felt like to finally, truly, be out on their own. It was exactly what they had been searching for, and mixed emotions made it difficult to parse in the moment how exactly they felt about it. Right now, they weren’t really in a position to discuss it, having just initiated a conversation with the group. Instead, Rae’s left glove gave Nemo’s hand a subtle squeeze, and Nemo closed that hand gently for a moment, a small token of reassurance between them. They otherwise didn't outwardly react to the revelation, Nemo able to maintain a decent poker face, whereas Rae’s “body” language wasn't usually apparent without the deliberate flourishes she made to purposefully communicate. They would address this when they had the chance.

[Postmania]

OOC: This probably won't much, but since it's still counting as one turn, I'm assuming Jane still has her Nekromantia activated with all the benefits that would go with it.

Jane studies the being as it approaches. Those...ears? Certainly did not seem artificial. Some sort of hybrid? Although truthfully, there may be no hybridization for her? species.

And then the apparent garment of clothing speaks and Jane is puzzled once more for a few moments.

Ah, this may be similar to that one hunt...

Then follows a strange explanation. Wayfarers by trade? Jane frowned.

"Nemo," Jane said, tilting her head. "Definition: No one, in certain archaic languages. Curious. And a...symbiote? Rae. As for me, my designation is Jane Doe."

Then follows a stream of questions. Jane considers.

"That is an extensive interrogation. You sound like one of the scientists back at the Facility. Nevertheless," Jane says, warming up her circuits before producing a series of swift answers in a manner she seemed familiar,

"I traveled to this location via what appeared to be a malfunctioning defensive measure.
I have no knowledge of this location, or these Gates.
I have no knowledge of any being here.
This is all unplanned on my part."

Jane paused for a moment, seeming to expect Nemo or perhaps Rae to produce a notepad or a holographic device to write this down.

Then she asks in a perplexed tone, "How does one make a trade of travel? Are you referring to expeditious methods of movement? Are you paid to walk around?"

[Sharkerbob]

OOC: This probably won't much, but since it's still counting as one turn, I'm assuming Jane still has her Nekromantia activated with all the benefits that would go with it.

Jane studies the being as it approaches. Those...ears? Certainly did not seem artificial. Some sort of hybrid? Although truthfully, there may be no hybridization for her? species.

And then the apparent garment of clothing speaks and Jane is puzzled once more for a few moments.

Ah, this may be similar to that one hunt...

Then follows a strange explanation. Wayfarers by trade? Jane frowned.

"Nemo," Jane said, tilting her head. "Definition: No one, in certain archaic languages. Curious. And a...symbiote? Rae. As for me, my designation is Jane Doe."

"Nice to meet you."

"I dunno if symbiote is accurate, but we do like to stick together!" Rae made a little ruffle around Nemo.

Then follows a stream of questions. Jane considers.

"That is an extensive interrogation. You sound like one of the scientists back at the Facility. Nevertheless," Jane says, warming up her circuits before producing a series of swift answers in a manner she seemed familiar,

"I traveled to this location via what appeared to be a malfunctioning defensive measure.
I have no knowledge of this location, or these Gates.
I have no knowledge of any being here.
This is all unplanned on my part."

Jane paused for a moment, seeming to expect Nemo or perhaps Rae to produce a notepad or a holographic device to write this down.

Nemo nodded. "I see. Thank you."

Then she asks in a perplexed tone, "How does one make a trade of travel? Are you referring to expeditious methods of movement? Are you paid to walk around?"

"Ah, apologies for the confusion," said Nemo. "In my world, a wayfarer is a type of adventurer, although one less focused on battling. Not that I won't do that if the job necessitates it, but you wouldn't hire a wayfarer to fight an army, or kill a dragon, or try to steal from a person. I do mostly specialized exploration and field work for several academic institutions, plus some occasional courier jobs, or the odd magic-oriented task here or there. I myself am interested in exploring all the varieties of Magic to be found across the many Worlds, so that's part of my travels as well."

"Also, we've got a divine technically-patron who likes to occasionally harangue us to get involved in her kooky shenanigans," said Rae. She paused, then said, with a tinge of not-so-steady amusement, "Though I get the feeling she's not exactly going to swinging by out here."

"Hmmm," said Nemo. "Not sure yet if that's a good thing or a bad thing." She made a little shrug. "Guess we'll just have to see how this plays out. In any case, that was how we got here. We were on another personal exploration trip in one of the outermost Worlds, and we encountered a strange portal. We stepped through it, and now, here we are."

[Sharpandpointies]

Krys' answering smile to the assurance that 'Rae' means nothing by her 'stressed' comment is somewhat thin, but they nods dutifully and let it pass. Once is once; it's not a pattern, though the woman, Nemo, suggests otherwise with her explanation. Unimportant for now, though. When Nemo finishes her introduction, and Jane begins her own, Krys' smile smoothes out slightly, losing any edge it had. It's interesting, listening to Jane pick her way through this; interesting and illuminating. 'Symbiote' - an interesting assessment, and perhaps correct. Then the answers to Nemo's rapid queries come with even greater rapidity, and Krys nods along with them. "Fairly close for me," they murmur, waiting.

Some discussion follows, with Jane having queries for her own and Nemo's replies. 'Adventurers'? Is that an actual profession, to the point where there are specialized versions? It seems odd...perhaps it's a similar idea to 'explorer', though why the translation...system? of this city renders it such, Krys has zero idea. Though...'battling'. It seems like people go out on 'adventures' mostly to fight. With what? An army, a dragon, or to steal. Krys winces at the idea; it all seems very mercenary and life-ending. But specialized exploration, that's at least comprehensible, as well as courier work and research into the forces Nemo's world consider to be 'magic'.

And a divine patron.

That last gets a slit-eyed glance at Jane from Krys. It seems to be a thing, having a god-being connected to oneself in some way. Be fair, Krys; were it not for Durga's choice in the matter, one might say the same for yourself. And you are connected to a conceptual entity, though...not so much at the moment. Painful thought, that.

Krys rather hopes that all of the gods connected to the individuals here won't be sticking their noses into the situation; it's bad enough with this Nekro hunting for Jane.

~ "So we're apparently gods that killed each other in a fratricidal orgy of war, and after getting reincarnated centuries later the first thing they want us to do is to fight other gods? Sounds like a recipe for an encore to me." ~

That memory brings a sniff alongside the pang. "Ashen death, but you said it," Krys murmurs to herself.

When Nemo finishes, Krys offers a small, shallow bow. "I answer to Krys. This -" an indication to Trevor "- is Trevor. It's a pleasure to meet you, Nemo." The smile is genuine. "I've already said hello to Rae...the questions. Right." Raising her hand, she begins closing fingers to tick off the questions; some habits die hard, even over eternities. "I came here, I believe, through random chance...bad luck...call it what you will. I have no clue where this is, beyond it being a nexus of realities. I came alone, and am meeting everyone here for the first time. And, to go along with my answer to the first, this is completely unplanned."

I never would have planned this.

I hope.

I don't remember so much.

"Hopefully that covers it." Their head cocks slightly, eyes thinning. "You mentioned being on the 'outermost worlds'. Literally? Different planets? Or do you use worlds in a different sense - are we speaking of different layers of reality, or different universes entirely?" They shrug, helplessly. "It would help to know; clearly, you aren't terribly discomfited by this situation, so I'm wondering if you have any prior experience to this kind of thing." Krys grins; it's a switchblade smile, there and gone. "For starters, there was no portal for myself. It's interesting you stepped through such a thing without hesitation, hence my wondering if you are acquainted with tears between realities...and if so, why you would step through a strange one."

And why there was a portal for you, but not for me.

That implies...intention. Somehow.

[Sharkerbob]

OOC: Added Rae's response to the symbiote question above, I think I misread that as an inner thought on Jane's part, sorry.

Some discussion follows, with Jane.

*snip*

When Nemo finishes, Krys offers a small, shallow bow. "I answer to Krys. This -" an indication to Trevor "- is Trevor. It's a pleasure to meet you, Nemo." The smile is genuine. "I've already said hello to Rae...

"Nice to meet you both."

the questions. Right." Raising her hand, she begins closing fingers to tick off the questions; some habits die hard, even over eternities. "I came here, I believe, through random chance...bad luck...call it what you will. I have no clue where this is, beyond it being a nexus of realities. I came alone, and am meeting everyone here for the first time. And, to go along with my answer to the first, this is completely unplanned."

"Understood. I am guessing a lack of knowledge of our current whereabouts will be a common theme among us, but it helps to take a full accounting, if permitted. Still, while I wouldn't say my arrival here planned, exactly, I did initiate my own trip. It seems neither of you had that luxury."

"Hopefully that covers it." Their head cocks slightly, eyes thinning. "You mentioned being on the 'outermost worlds'. Literally? Different planets? Or do you use worlds in a different sense - are we speaking of different layers of reality, or different universes entirely?" They shrug, helplessly. "It would help to know; clearly, you aren't terribly discomfited by this situation, so I'm wondering if you have any prior experience to this kind of thing." Krys grins; it's a switchblade smile, there and gone. "For starters, there was no portal for myself. It's interesting you stepped through such a thing without hesitation, hence my wondering if you are acquainted with tears between realities...and if so, why you would step through a strange one."

"I mean, there was a bit of hesitation," Rae said.

Nemo took a moment to parse how best to summarize their rather convoluted home realm. "The reality cluster we came from would more accurately be described as a miniature multiverse. Planes, mostly flat worlds existing in small universes unto themselves, separated by dimensional veils, rather than planets in a star system, separated by space. Although a couple of the Worlds in those systems do, in fact, have planets orbiting around central stars. It's..." she paused. She could give a whole university lecture about this, but she had the feeling this wasn't the time or place. "Well, frankly, it's complicated. Our reality was forged by a bunch of gods who really liked fantastical stories. So they made those stories into a reality. Every World functions under it's own set of aesthetic and cultural standards, mostly the same basic physical laws but with different Magical or Technological systems per plane. My home World was one of those planes, Rae here was born on yet another. We're among the few wayfarers who regularly step across the different Worlds."

"Which is to say crossing dimensions is somewhat old hat for us," said Rae, tipping her own hat for emphasis. "We're kinda privileged like that, thanks to our not-quite-patron."

"Indeed," said Nemo. "As for why we stepped through the portal, I suppose it comes down to intellectual curiosity."

"They say curiosity kills cats, but my girl's a rabbit, so she should be in the clear!" said Rae.

"Please do not jinx us," said Nemo, giving a slight, sardonic smile. "Also, just before entering, we could hear something like a whisper in the air. We think it was saying 'Khazan'. Are any of you familiar with this word?"

[Postmania]

"Nice to meet you."

"I dunno if symbiote is accurate, but we do like to stick together!" Rae made a little ruffle around Nemo.

"I see," Jane replied. "It's good to have a friendly voice in your ear."

Jane considered what she had witnessed in terms of Nemo attempting to quiet the other.

"Usually."

The next bit of information cycled her attention more completely however.

"A divine patron," she said slowly. "Harangue? Do you serve her willingly? What makes you think she is not here?"

As Krys responds with her own queries and Nemo answers Jane finds herself momentarily settling back to a calmer state however as the conversation drifts to other, more familiar areas. Different worlds, and their strangeness'.

"This experience with different worlds in a multiverse also concurs with the experience in my section of greater reality."

Jane considers the story of the gods Nemo mentions before responding.

"Although my section is likely a different multiverse from yours, I have also seen many different worlds of corresponding levels of advancement. Of course, on each world there was a target for me marked by my handlers, and often the world itself was already predetermined. That objective consumed most of my attention, leaving me little time or initiative to wayfare as you might have. This phrase, 'Khazan' however, my systems are coming back null with any matches on this term."

Jane frowns, turning her head from Nemo to the other two expectantly.

[Sharkerbob]

"A divine patron," she said slowly. "Harangue? Do you serve her willingly? What makes you think she is not here?"

"I dunno if it's unwilling, exactly, but you might say the arrangement's a bit dubious," Rae said. "She goes by a lot of names, but let's just call her the Trickster. She had a hand in making us, more or less, and she took a liking to us, so, you know, we get to be one of her "special friends" when she's feeling social. We'll be going along, minding our own business, and then she'll pop in to start pestering us to go on another of her dumb little quests." She wriggled a bit on Nemo's head in the approximation of a head shake. "Most of our gods are... what's the word..."

"Hedonists," said Nemo pointedly.

Rae made a little scoff. "Not the word I was going to use, but we're supposed to be safe for work now, so whatever. Point is, their universe is all a big game to them, as far as we can tell. Some take the game seriously, others do not. It is what it is."

Nemo continued. "The Trickster isn't so bad, she's just insistent. She's never actually forced us to do anything, and she's never requested us to do something we'd be outright against, but it's a little hard to turn down our own Creator when she's more or less looked out for us." She paused to consider a moment. "As to that last point, we have stepped into a realm that I don't think our gods have any sway over. It's hard to explain. I just have a... feeling, really. There's this strange, subtle... absence, that I don't think I've ever felt before. It's... mildly confronting." Another pause. "I suppose nothing necessarily would stop any of our gods from coming here, but as I understand it, they have made a hard point to sequester themselves to their cluster of Worlds. I highly doubt even the Trickster would come out here; even if we deliberately prayed to her, I don't think she'd hear us."

"Part of what we were searching for was a way to get out from under their eye in the first place," said Rae. She flapped the hem of her shawl a bit. "Baby bird's gotta leave the nest and all that!"

As Krys responds with her own queries and Nemo answers Jane finds herself momentarily settling back to a calmer state however as the conversation drifts to other, more familiar areas. Different worlds, and their strangeness'.

"This experience with different worlds in a multiverse also concurs with the experience in my section of greater reality."

Jane considers the story of the gods Nemo mentions before responding.

"Although my section is likely a different multiverse from yours, I have also seen many different worlds of corresponding levels of advancement. Of course, on each world there was a target for me marked by my handlers, and often the world itself was already predetermined. That objective consumed most of my attention, leaving me little time or initiative to wayfare as you might have. This phrase, 'Khazan' however, my systems are coming back null with any matches on this term."

"I see," said Nemo. "You mention handlers and targets. I'm guessing your work may be of a more... militaristic nature? I could have guessed there were other wholly separate Multiverses in the Worlds Beyond, but it is fascinating to have it confirmed. If we've time later, I would like to hear more about your world, and the ones you've traveled to, if you don't mind telling." She turned to the others. "All of your Worlds, if you are willing to share."

"Heads up," said Rae, slipping to the side a bit. "New arrival." Nemo turned in that direction, and she could see a figure approaching in the distance.