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sephirthoughts · 10 months ago

Text

Father: Verb

Epilogue (3 of 4)

The long-foretold Lucrecia chapter.

Rating: general

It was a completely insignificant day in late spring, one year, and the sun rode high above the rocky hills and weather-worn karsts of the Nibel region. The wind, up here, was colloquially called ‘the breath of the world’, and one could almost feel the planet’s living vitality in its brisk and spirited gusts, as they strove to toss you right off the mountain. This was perfectly usual, of course, and also much of the reason no one ventured out into this goddess-forsaken waste.

What was different about this day, was that a pair of booted footsteps had joined the wind, in whispering amongst the knee-high sedge grasses, knocking wisps of pollen into the air, and collecting bits of fluff on tall, black shin guards. These were not the meandering steps of a leisure hiker, nor the hurried footfalls of one who’d got lost from the trail, and was in haste to find it again. These steps were deliberate, following some prearranged path, though there was none to be seen, amid the tumbled rocks and windswept brush.

At length, the boots made their way to their apparent destination. It was a secluded mountain lake, crystal blue and nearly perfectly round—no doubt formed in the caldera of some long dormant volcano—that lay at the center of a green and tranquil oasis, hidden away in the inhospitable highlands, like a fairyland in a children’s tale.

At the northwestern end of the small lake, the thunder of the tributary falls rumbled down, from the high ridge. The waterfall was more energetic than usual, today, due to heavy snowpack in the mountains above, this past winter, so misty spray billowed and white foam roiled riotously, in the deep-blue basin below.

When the black boots came to the falls, they continued, undaunted, sure-footed as a mountain goat on the slippery rocks, as the cold spray beaded on well-polished leather, and rolled down in heavy drops, like dew.

At a wave of the hand from the owner of those boots, the waterfall, despite being swollen with snowmelt and rather proud of itself at the moment, stood meekly aside, to let the visitor pass through. There were some, after all, for whom even nature itself had no power to bar the way.

Perfectly concealed behind this glimmering curtain of living glass, was a narrow crevice, hardly wider than a single person. The boots proceeded, turning sidewise, to squeeze through, and vanish into the dark.

Deep inside the mountain ridge, this narrow crevice widened into a traversable path. Deeper still, the path opened up into a glittering cave, of tremendous size, in which the terrific heat and pressure of ancient volcanic activity had caused mass-crystallization of liquefied minerals. This had created the hundreds of strange stalactite and stalagmite columns, which stood like an eerie forest of stone, spanning from the floor to the ceiling of the cave, as far as the eye could see.

Eventually, the densely packed columns gave way to an open area, like a natural amphitheater, where the cave ceiling domed up and the floor smoothed out. At the center of this area, lay a circular pool, of faintly glowing water, which surrounded a much different mineral formation.

It was a pillar, formed of gigantic spars of some naturally luminous crystal, clear and slightly turquoise tinted, like enchanted ice. This pillar and the smaller crystal structures that had grown out from it, acted as the light source in the cave, illuminating the surrounding environment with a dreamy, otherworldly glow.

The light was not the most remarkable feature of this crystal pillar, however. Most remarkable was that, within the main column of transparent crystal, could be seen the figure of a young woman. She was dressed in white, and her lovely and delicate-featured face wore an expression of peaceful repose. Her eyes were closed, and her head slightly bowed, with her hands clasped on her chest, in a posture of prayer.

It was unclear, whether this was the true body of a woman, suspended in the luminous, mako-saturated crystal, or merely a visual remnant, graven into it by the life force of the planet, but the distinction was immaterial, to the one who observed her, now. This was her final resting place. That was all that mattered.

The black boots slowed their pace, crunching over the crystal gravel at a heavy, almost funerary cadence, until at long last, they arrived before the limpid pool, and the woman in her crystalline reliquary. There they stood, for a long time. And for a long time, there was no sound, but the little plashes of dripping water, afar off, in the dark recesses of the cavern.

Finally, a voice spoke softly, into the echoing silence. “So, we meet at last…mother.”

The crystal pillar’s fairie-light shone pale and glimmering on a cascade of silver hair, and illuminated the face of a young man, very like to that of the woman in the crystal. His was a sharper, harder beauty than hers, especially about the brow and catlike blue-green eyes, but his mouth and chin particularly, belonged entirely to her. Seeing their faces together, there could be no mistaking their close relation.

“In the likely case that you don’t recognize me, I am your son, Sephiroth,” the silver-haired man continued. He caught himself reflexively placing a hand over his heart and tucked it behind his back, instead. “I’ve come to…to pay my respects, I suppose. I hope you will forgive me for not coming sooner. My father has gently urged me to visit you for many years, but somehow, I could never bring myself to do it.”

The woman in the crystal remained serene and silent.

“He doesn’t know I’m here today. In fact, I’ve told no one what I intended to do. I couldn’t bear to feel the pressure of their thoughts, on the subject. This…is between you and me.”

Heedless of the glowing, ankle-deep water, he strode directly across the circular pool and stepped onto the disc of stone that formed the base of the crystal pillar. The woman’s figure was suspended a couple of feet above the base, but she was rather petite, and thus he, being nearly seven feet tall, stood almost at eye-level with her.

“You look different, from your photograph,” he remarked, without emotion. “A bit older. Thinner. Of course, when you came here, you were burdened by cares that did not yet weigh upon you, when that picture was taken.”

He reached out his gloved hand, as if to touch the crystal, where her face was, then withdrew it again, straightening up proudly.

“But I’ve not come here to talk about you. I have come to tell you who I am. I am the son of Vincent Valentine. I am now the most powerful single entity on this planet, aside from my father. In my early life, I was raised by various scientists and handlers, in Shinra Manor, to be the first SOLDIER—the flagship of Shinra’s genetically enhanced military. A professional war criminal. But…that never came to be. In the end, I never fought a single battle on Shinra’s behalf.

“When I was fourteen years old, I burned the manor to the ground and escaped with my father. We spent the following years working against Shinra from the shadows; subverting their people, embedding our own in their system, growing inside them like a virus. And when the time came to strike, it was far too late for them to fight us. We neutralized the host and took over, with…minimal bloodshed.

“What you knew as the Shinra Electric Power Company, is now called the World Regenesis Organization. It is still the greatest socioeconomic and political force, in the world, but under the guidance of our people, it is steadily being restructured; from a parasitic behemoth, draining the planet of its life force, to a benevolent, non-profit enterprise, actively fostering the harmonious existence of humans with the natural world.

“It has been…slow going, to be perfectly honest. Most of our work, so far, has been dedicated to undoing the decades of damage done by Shinra, in its previous incarnation. It will take centuries for those wounds to fully heal. But now, at least, there is hope. They even tell me that flowers are returning to Midgar. That is how things currently stand, with me. Of course, we must address the elephant in the room, sooner or later, so let us have it out, and be done with it, shall we?”

He stopped and took a long breath, letting it out slowly, and somewhat relaxing his heretofore stiff, formal posture.

“First things first, it is only right to tell you that my father forgave you, for everything. He never really blamed you, despite my attempts to convince him he should. And I did attempt to convince him he should. Because…I blamed you. That is the whole truth.

“I won’t paint a falsely pretty picture of the catastrophe you left in your wake, to spare your feelings. Your troubles are over. The lives that you left behind—mine and my father’s—have continued on. Sometimes in misery and desolation, sometimes in sorrow and regret, but mostly…in hope. And in joy. You see, the terrible fate you foresaw—the destruction of the planet in a hell of fire, and me as a the angel of death—will never come to pass. But, perhaps I should begin at the beginning.

“Your apocalyptic visions did come true, once. In another future. But in that future, that version of myself found a way to free himself from fate. When his body died, he broke the chains of destiny, and bent the will of the lifestream to his purpose. Freed from his physical form, he traveled backward, through the timeline, gathering each version of us, from each crucial turning point, and brought them to me, to show me the way.

“With their help, I freed my father from Shinra’s slavery, and killed that old monster who tortured us. Yes, I killed Hojo, with my own hands. He has been dead for…seventeen years, now. Hardly time to even begin to undo all the evil he caused. May his houseless spirit wander the netherworld, with neither rest nor comfort, till all his wrongs have been erased from the memory of time.

“But where was I? Ah, yes. After I rid the world of Hojo, and Chaos rid the world of Jenova’s corruption, we began to create our vision, for the future. Since then, I have accomplished everything my other selves died to make possible. I have made all the things right, that went so wrong, in their futures. I have killed those who should have been killed and saved all those who should have been saved—”

He broke off and lowered his head, with an expression of pain.

“I should say…I have saved all but one. My father. I can’t save him. There is nothing I can do, to release him from the fate that you, willing or no, have damned him to. Because of the method you used to preserve his life, he has become one with Chaos. He no longer has a human soul, and can no longer merge with the lifestream.”

He looked up at her again, with his teeth bared and fire in his eyes.

“Do you understand what that means? It means he can never die. People say that I am immortal, but they have no idea what true immortality is. I am only ageless. I can live as long as I wish to, and I can also die. My father will never have that choice. He is truly immortal.

“That is the full horror of the curse you have laid upon him. When the sun burns out and this planet is nothing but a lifeless rock, hurtling aimlessly through the void, he will still exist, in that indestructible demonic form. And there is nothing…nothing I can do, to spare him the torment of aeons, that lies in his future.”

He paused and turned away, cupping his forehead in his hand, and clearing his throat, to regain control of his wavering voice. When he turned back, he appeared perfectly tranquil, again, but for the hint of pink that rimmed his eyes.

“For so many years, whenever I confronted the infinite tragedy that will be my father’s existence, I blamed you. I hated you. I cursed you bitterly. But…that was a child’s reaction, to a blurred and oversimplified understanding of reality. Despite all the knowledge I gained from my future selves, it seems that only experience, earned in the true passing of years, brings wisdom. And with wisdom comes reflection. And regret.”

Reaching into his long, black coat, he withdrew an old, dog-eared, faded and weather-stained book. Some of the yellowed pages had come loose and had been carefully tucked back in, held in place with paper clips.

“I’m sure you recognize this book. This is your journal. Not your research notes. This is the private diary, that you kept hidden from everyone. After your disappearance, it was mailed anonymously to Valentine Manor, of all things, where it lay in the library for many years, disregarded. It was recently discovered by an archivist, and brought to me, after its authentication. I beg your pardon for reading it, without your permission, but you understand.”

Smiling wistfully, he touched the battered leather cover of the book with his fingertips, tracing its surface gently, as if it were the face of a loved one. Then his brow furrowed and he swallowed hard, as if against some tautness in his throat.

“It has been…painful, to read this tale, knowing the end already. To witness, in real time, as it were, the hope and optimism of a young woman, her heartbreak and disillusionment, and her eventual decline into despair.

“But, through the words written here, I have come to know her. I have come to know Lucrecia. A passionate scholar and brilliant scientist, and sometimes, a rather silly and idealistic young woman. I have come to know her hopes and dreams. Her triumphs and disappointments. The fears and doubts she never dared speak aloud.

“I have come to know my mother. Not the lofty ideal I had constructed in my mind, as a child. Not the scapegoat for all my misery, that I made you into, as an adolescent. But the living, flesh and blood woman that you were. The unvarnished truth of you, in all its human ugliness and beauty.

“I know now that you truly did love my grandfather, though you never admitted it, in so many words. The way you wrote of him, in such starry-eyed hyperbole, was both comically trite and infinitely endearing. I know also that you cared deeply for my father. I know the way your guilt gnawed at you, with every word you spoke to one another. The way Grimoire seemed to be looking at you, from his son’s eyes.

“I have come to know also of your love for…for me. You must understand that I had always thought of my conception as the calculated act of a scientific mind, that did not care for the eventual human cost, when there were groundbreaking experimental results to be had. I know, now, how I—how I wronged you, in thinking of you that way.”

He broke off yet again, taking a shaky breath, to steady himself.

“Through your journal, I was by your side, when you made that impulsive decision to create a child, with my father’s genetic material. I felt your horror and grief, at his death, counterpoised with your anxious excitement, as the new life grew in your body. I felt your mind turn, from justification, to hesitation, to abhorrence of the things that you had done to me. I experienced your abject agony, when you awoke from the cesarean operation to find your infant gone, and yourself trapped and powerless to go to him. I heard you weep and beg and plead, over and over, to be allowed to see your son, and I watched those pleas fall on deaf ears. I know now that you never abandoned me and that you loved me, desperately. That you never even held me in your arms, and still you longed for me with every fiber of your being, just as I longed for you.”

A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek, which he quickly brushed away.

“You know, Hojo once told me I never had a name, and that Sephiroth was only a project designation. But I learned from your journal that you had chosen that name, for your future child, long before the project existed. Long before you even met the old serpent.”

He lowered his eyes and touched the cover of the book again, smiling softly, to himself.

“Rather eccentric, and perhaps a bit pretentious, to name your unborn child a collective noun, for the channels of the divine creative force, in the tree of life. But you were young and full of grand ideas. You can be forgiven for such a flight of fancy. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve always liked my name. It sounds enigmatic and imposing, and it is unique in the world. Or—it was, anyway. So many babies are christened Sephiroth every year, now, that the census bureau has become sick to death of it, and lay the blame squarely at my feet.

“But I’ve strayed from my topic. I understand, now, that you were not to blame for the evil that befell us all. Yes, you made choices that led to terrible suffering, but without that malevolent man to perpetrate his atrocities, no choice of yours could have caused things to happen as they did. You made mistakes, mother, but you always intended to do good. He always intended to do evil. That is the great difference between you and him.

“You were deceived and used, then isolated and tormented, by that old viper, just as we were. He preyed upon your ambition, used your hopes and dreams to blind you, and slowly closed the walls around you. Then, he made certain you would blame your own foolishness and weakness, for the results. Finally, when you could bear the guilt and misery no longer, he allowed you to run away, to die alone in the wilderness. He never even sent anyone to search for you.

“I told you that with wisdom comes reflection and regret, and I have tasted this cup to its dregs. My regret has weighed heavily upon me, these past several years. I regret the injustice I’ve done you, by blaming and hating you, for the horror of my life. I regret wasting so many years in bitterness and anger, directed at you, because I couldn’t contend with the real source of all my pain: that for all my power—all my strength of will—there are still those things over which I have no control.

“Mother, I…I’m sorry.” His voice, smooth and steady till now, wavered and broke. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he made no move to conceal or wipe away the tears, that overflowed and spilled freely down his face. “I’m sorry for taking so long to grow up. I’m sorry for not even trying to understand you. I’m sorry for wanting your love so desperately, that a boy’s unrequited yearning metastasized into a man’s bitter resentment.

“The truth is, I only ever hated you for not being there. For not loving me enough to live. I know that is illogical and selfish, but I was a child. All I knew was my own pain. My own need for a mother. I grew so fixated on it, that I became unstable and destructive. That was when the old monster gave me the locket with your photo, and told me your name was Jenova.

“That little thing soothed me more than any of the tranquilizing drugs they tried on me. When I was still very small, I used to open my locket and whisper to your picture, at night, telling you of the things I’d accomplished, so that you’d be proud of me. I used to imagine that the smile in that photograph was meant for me.

“As I grew older, and more hardened by the ugly brutality of my life, I taught myself that such behavior was childish and shameful. I stopped talking to you. I stopped smiling back, when I looked at your picture. But the pain of your absence didn’t heal. It deepened and festered, in the darkness of my loneliness and grief, while the old monster tormented me, in the name of making me strong.

“Then one day…Vincent came. He was brought to me, to be a handler and bodyguard. I’m sorry to state it so bluntly, but he fully usurped your place in my heart, within hours of our meeting. It was not so terribly fickle, as it sounds, though. I knew he was my father, the moment I laid eyes on him.

“Not consciously, of course. I didn’t dare to admit that glimmer of heart-piercing hope into my world of darkness. And yet I knew it. My blood and my bones knew it—that he belonged to me, and I to him. Can I be blamed for transferring all of my childish longing and love, from the mother who was nothing but a picture in a locket, to the father who was solid and tangible, and right in front of me?

“Vincent dawned upon my world like a new sun, and transformed everything I knew, from drab monochrome to brilliant color. He taught me about spaghetti and birthdays, and watched movies with me. He was the first person who hugged me, and he was…he was the first person who ever said they loved me.

“To say that I returned his love would be a gross understatement. I was obsessed with him. Fixated on him. I wanted to bind him to me forever, and never let him escape. I would have burned the world for him, if I thought he wanted it. But, as it turned out, he was a good man. So I became good, too.

“As good as I can be, at least. I am still a man who loves to such excess, that I would unhesitatingly destroy the lives and happiness of anyone who dared stand between me and my loved ones.” He gave a rueful smile. “Our family really is given to romantic melodrama, are we not?

“But despite the grasping, jealous, needy way I loved him, my father never pushed me away. Never told me I was wrong. Never rejected me. Since the day we destroyed the monsters who authored all of our grief, and broke free of the yoke of Shinra, we have never been separated. I don’t mean physically, of course. We are grown men, we can’t be attached at the hip, all the time. But, no matter how far apart we are, we are always together.

“You see, he gave me his heart. That is not a figure of speech, it’s here in my chest, beside my own.”

This time, he did lay a hand on his heart, and from his chest, a pale light shone, between his fingers. “You must remember this. It is the heart you gave him, mother. That he then gave to me, your son. Poetic, no? What did I say about our family and romantic melodrama?

“Speaking of family, what would my grandfather have thought, if he’d known about me? Did he ever imagine that you loved him enough to give birth to his son’s son, just to preserve a piece of him in the world? I wonder.”

He sighed and the light receded back into his chest.

“I wish I’d had a chance to meet him. He must have been a captivating man, to so deeply ensnare a heart like yours, whose first love was always science. For all of the heartache it caused, I hope he at least reciprocated your feelings, to some degree. All the evidence suggests that he did. As did his son. Two generations of Valentine men have died for you, and because of you, one will never die. A heavy burden for even a woman’s soul to bear.”

He smiled wryly at the beautiful face in the crystal, then looked away, clearing his throat.

“That’s…a joke you have no way of understanding. There is a certain person of my acquaintance��a Cetra seer, who reads auras and such things. She told me I had a woman’s soul. I should take it as a compliment, she said, because women’s souls are by far the stronger.

“There are many reasons my soul should seem abnormal, to a seer, but I would like to think that I carry a piece of your soul with me, mother. And that it was part of you, she saw in me. Because the more I am like you, the less I am like that thing. That dead abomination, behind the glass, in the mako tank. Its face haunts me, even to this day, and my body, though purified of its corruption, still bears its marks.”

He placed his gloved hands on his own cheeks, then ran them back through his silver hair, his eyes unfocused, darting back and forth. After a moment, though, he shook himself, and the spell seemed to pass.

“That is the secret I can never tell, mother,” he resumed, looking up at her. “I was born to be a monster. It is only by constant and conscious effort of will, that I have not become one. Not my will, alone, though. I would have given in, long ago. It is the love of my father, and those close to me, that has kept me on the right path. That has stopped me straying into darkness.

“So many suffered and died needlessly, in the other future, who now live happy and free from that terrible fate. They will never know the monster I could have become. But I will never not know. No matter how many I save, how much I change, how much of myself I give to this world, I can never erase the knowledge, that if my steps had faltered but a little, along the path, I would have destroyed the planet, and killed them all.

“I defied destiny, mother. I wiped the slate clean and created a new future, a new fate, and yet…I am still alone. A demon walking among the innocent. A wolf among the sheep. I can wear their hide and speak their tongues, but I can never be one of them.

“That was the real price I paid, to rewrite fate. It wasn’t the death of my physical body, at each inflection point. It was the sacrifice of my innocence, to return innocence to this world. I have paid dearly, for the lives and freedom of all its children. I have paid with my soul.

“My hands are clean, and yet my shoulders bear the weight of ten-thousand sins. How can a soul so blameless in deed, be so blackened in essence? How can I atone for sins I will never commit? How can I heal scars that have never felt a wound? Can I be forgiven, for what I have not done?”

He laid his hands on the luminous pillar and leaned his forehead upon it.

“If you knew me, as I am now, would you love me, nonetheless? Would you ever be proud to call me your son?”

Though he knew it was only childish wishfulness, he could almost swear he felt a faint warmth and pressure, on his skin, as if gentle arms reached out to embrace him, with infinite tenderness and unfathomable love. With that, the gates were flung wide, and the depths of his heart poured forth, a wordless hymn of sorrow and joy, as vast as the heavens and as deep as the abyss.

Borne down by the weight of it, he sunk to his knees, clinging to the crystal pillar, as shuddering sobs racked his invincible body, and tears poured down like snowmelt in spring, splashing onto the crystal-strewn floor at his mother's feet. Even when he had wept himself hoarse, till he had no tears left, he still clung to the pillar, gasping out wet, stuttering breaths, that fogged its glassy surface.

At long last, he grew calm again, and rose to his feet, wiping his face with his gloved hand. Then, peeling off the gloves, he laid his palms on the pillar and let his forehead rest against it, inches from his mother’s lips, whose kiss he would never feel. So close, and yet separated by an impassable divide.

“I’m getting married, mother,” he said hoarsely, after a while. “To my other half, my soul mate, my fated one…I don’t even know what to call him, for I have loved him in so many lifetimes. But in this life, I can finally say I have earned his love.

“I wish that you could know him. That you could see how good he is to me, and how good he is for me. How shall I tell you about him, in a credible way, when to me, he is perfection in human form? He has golden hair and bright blue eyes, like the sky and sea, and lovely little freckles, though he likes to deny they exist. He is small, for a man, but he isn’t the least bit soft or submissive, and his tongue is as sharp as his sword.

“I love him madly, even more when he scolds me. I would do anything for him. I have done everything for him. For my beloved, I have reshaped the fate of this world, with my own hands. For him, I have built this gentle kingdom, ringed in spears, so that he may live in peace, and without fear for the future.

“Back when we were children, walking on the beach together, collecting shells and sea glass, and talking about our hopes and dreams, I did tell him I intended to marry him, one day. But I never attempted to hold him, in my hand. I never attempted to bind him to me, lest I break his wings and suffocate him, with my love.

“Though it cost me deep anxiety and tremendous pain, I let my little bird fly as free as he wished. But he always came back to me, on his own. He loves me, mother. He knows the whole truth of me—everything, even the monstrous things my other selves did in their futures—and still, he loves me. Of all the people in this world, he chose me, to spend his life with.

“I had planned to wait until he turned twenty-one, to formally propose marriage, but when it came to it, he proposed to me, before I got the chance. Of course, he took Knight Fair’s suggestion and did it at a shareholders meeting, in the presence of all our friends and associates. And the Turks, who were there pretending to provide extra security, but really came to see the show.

“It was profoundly embarrassing. And…it was the most joyous moment of my life. To know once and for all, that I was chosen. That I was sought after and desired. That he loved me, as I loved him, and that he wanted to declare it before the world.

“For I always doubt, mother. No matter how I am reassured, I always doubt that I am truly loved or wanted. I feel…alien. As if those around me know I don’t belong, and are only awaiting the slightest pretext to cast me out from among them.

“My psychiatrist—my current psychiatrist, that is, my previous few have suddenly relocated or given up the profession—calls it social anxiety, related to an autism spectrum disorder. I suppose she knows her business, but it seems unfair that my superior brain can suffer from human dysfunction, and yet due to that very superiority, they have yet to find a medication that has any effect on me.

“Before I stray off topic and forget, I should tell you that my father is engaged to be married, as well. To someone my age, no less, the old villain. But everyone thinks they’re a perfect match, and no one is scandalized by it in the least, because despite his advanced age, my father looks as if he’s the younger of the pair. So it goes. I, too, will look younger than my beloved, one day. It will be in the far, far future, since he has been enhanced, but he will grow old. The day will come when he will leave me and return to the lifestream.

“As for my father…even I can’t say what his future holds. I only know I must find a way to save him. I can’t bear to think of him, bereft of everyone and everything he ever knew and loved, facing eternity alone. But even if I can’t alter his fate, I can at least not allow him to face it alone. He does not know, but I have already decided that I will not die, until he does.

“Somehow, I will save him, from the terrible curse of immortality, and only when he leaves this existence, will I consent to leave it, with him. That is my vow, before heaven and earth. My father and I will cross into the afterlife together, or not at all.” He lowered his head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I am sorry to disappoint you, mother, but it seems I will not be the one to break the family curse of romantic melodrama. But, with a name like Sephiroth, can you really be surprised?”

In the end, he loitered in that place for many hours, pouring out the minutiae of his life to his silent mother, in the way very young children will do, only all at once and in a torrential flood, since there were three decades of such anecdotes to get through. When he did depart, at long last, he smiled and pressed a kiss to the cold surface of the crystal pillar, where her forehead was.

“I love you, mother. You don’t have to worry about me, anymore. I will be alright. Rest now, and be at peace.”

As he left the cavern, Sephiroth paused and took a last, lingering look at his mother’s beautiful face, before he turned away, again, and the echo of his footsteps faded away, into the darkness.

Had he remained, a moment longer, he may have seen what appeared to be a single tear, roll down the pale cheek, within the luminous crystal. Perhaps a remnant of the young woman’s spirit still clung to her form, and was moved by her son’s love, to this final expression of emotion. Or perhaps it was only a trick of the light.

Several days later, WRO seismologists reported a massive seismic event, in the Nibel region, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in geological ages. When it was investigated, it was found that the quake had been caused by the sudden, catastrophic collapse of half a mountain range, which had been sitting atop a network of huge, volcanic caves, making the entire structure unsupportable. They considered it miraculous that the range had stood as long as it had.

The good news, however, was that there were no casualties, since those highlands were uninhabitable, and no loss of property. That is to say, nearly no loss of property. The tremors were felt all the way in Nibelheim, where multiple cats were startled out of naps, and half a dozen vases were shaken off shelves, to meet their untimely demise on Nibelheim’s famously tough wood floors.

As for a small, volcanic lake, high in the rocky hills, which was swallowed in the collapse; only a few geologists and intrepid mountaineers ever knew it existed, so no one lamented its loss.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY the fun one is next! tons of cameos, ahoy!! hooray tying up loose ends!!!

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outofangband · 2 years ago

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Teleri gardens post for @actual-bill-potts

Mentions of this on my other world building posts for the Teleri! I actually have a lot of head cannons about the differences in gardens between the three peoples of the Amanyar and I will make posts about Vanyarin and Noldorin gardens soon!

Second note: this is not meant to be a flora post as I want to make a separate one with more extensive information on that however, I will include some examples of plants

As always please feel free to ask more!

-The Teleri have beautiful gardens of a variety of forms; formal gardens, groves, orchards, vegetable and herb gardens, aquatic gardens ranging from elegant ponds to elaborate whimsical waterscapes, and coral gardens.

-There are extensive and beautiful gardens at the palace of Alqualondë including a fountain carved over a natural spring, a grove of trees (mostly black and maritime pine) with a small natural pond, and a stream that runs to the ocean through a small opening in the sandstone walls.

-Shapes of gardens tend to be spiral or circular from above. Circles, spirals, waves, and other similar shapes are common and a lot of their art and this absolutely includes outdoors and garden art

-Some of these coral gardens are cultivated from existing tide pools with help from Maiar of Ulmo. These can serve as living monuments to the ocean and its creatures, and are very sacred places to the Teleri.

-There are several green houses in Alqualondë including one or two built over warm springs that provide moisture to the plants and soil. Glasswork is another important Telerin craft as I mentioned on my first world building post. Though Noldorin architectural styles or practices might have been used in their construction, the glasswork and horticulture/ecological work is from Telerin knowledge and practices

-There are also many purely underwater gardens. Some of these are in lagoons, and groves found more inland. Some of these are in the ocean beyond the harbor. Many of these are very difficult to access to outsiders, requiring access through hidden coves and through steel treks. These gardens are home to many aquatic and ocean plants, and the creatures that find sanctuary in them; kelp, seaweed and sea grasses and others

-Gardening, landscaping and design and water engineering are important Telerin crafts! They take a lot of pride in how land and water are represented in their gardens, in contents and layout and shape, etc

-The soil around and through Alqualondë is very fertile. It’s not uncommon to find fragments of shell and limestone or sandstone in the soil thus the plant life tends to be limestone friendly though the levels are not so high that it makes it inhospitable to species that aren’t

-Small pebbles and shells often decorate paths in gardens and parks. Statues are rare in gardens but small rock/pebble formations are sometimes made

-Especially among the nobles but also elsewhere, aquatic gardens often with elaborate waterscapes. These utilize pumps, spinning wheels, elegant slanted trofts carved from stone, clay or bamboo, and elvenmade streams and ponds

-Even in non water based gardens, water elements such as fountains, often in whimsical or creative shapes, bird baths and ponds are common. There are carved sandstone structures around several saltwater springs creating fountains in Alqualondë’s main spaces. These are viewed as the sea opening up within the city

-Telerin gardens, even formal ones, tend to require minimal pruning, and rely on methods that allow the species to grow thrive, and cross pollinate as they would naturally. While, this is true of most elven garden practices in general it’s often especially visible in these

-Children play in the gardens a lot and lessons are often held here!

-As I mentioned on my previous world building post for the Teleri, many streams run from the Pelóri to the ocean and they run through the city. There are also many underground streams, and both sources are utilized to bring water to gardens, houses and other water elements. I actually headcanon that both Tirion and Alqualondë have systems somewhere between canals and aqueducts.

-Sea cabbage, common gorse, juniper, bay, sea oats, yarrow, sea thrift, curry plants and sea campion are some of the most common plants in small gardens. Bay leaves are common garnishes and seasoning in Telerin cuisine.

#the silmarillion #Valinor #Teleri #musing and meta

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gaunt-and-hungry · 2 years ago

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A Wretched Star to Be Born Under

A sneak peak into the newest chapter coming out for Brine and Ice

Summary: Another Sledge Party returns from The Revenge, provisioning and supplementing The Terror. Heinrich deals with some unwanted sensations for the reverent Leftenant Irving. Tons of awkward tensions. Content Warnings: None Word Count So Far: 2,121 Name drop of Lillian McNeil of @ashton-slashton

“That would be Mr. Reiss then. Graham is with him,” Edward Little’s spyglass gave a pleasant ‘clink’ as it was snapped shut in the cold of his fingers.

“They’re late,” Erebus paced along the gunwale of the Terror, “But alive. Must count our blessings, Leftenant,” he assured. “I’ll report to the Captain.”

It was the third sledge party to make it back. Getting to the Revenge was easier than returning, laden down with the provisions and needs of the crew. A straight shot across the ice it took them just under a day to reach the sanctity of the Revenge. There was a shift in temperatures across the northern belts of floes that prickled the pack of waves that froze and thawed like clenching fists around the warm currents that trickled down from the north. This thaw and refreeze could only be seen once they reached the precipice of where The Revenge patrolled the furthest sheets, locked into her own harbour of frigid waters like a caged animal.

May was never this cold from what Erebus had recalled. He knew these waters but had never traversed these narrow shulks of waterways. He was not foolish enough to, though clearly he was foolish enough to wander out into such violently inhospitable reaches for the sake of others. Ross owed him, that was certain, and it took everything within his power to not hold any of the spite he felt for Ross against him as he, himself, was paving a way through the ice. Three and a half years they had been lodged in this hellscape, suffering the weight of lightless cold and hours of perpetual twilight that shook the skies with ribbons of fluorite and seafoam greens.

For all that the Frozen North held within its grasp, the end of the earth was closest here than it was anywhere else in the world. Stretches that maddeningly were endless and yawned anciently as if a perverted idea of purgatory had swallowed them whole occupied the eye. There was no wonder as to how they ended up in such clutches. But that mattered not. What mattered was the aching creaks and groans of the bodies of wood that threatened to cave like the ribs of a carcass snapping wide to bear open the welcome sight of her innards. When water began to pool beneath the hulls of the ships, everyone felt it. The canting was violent as the slick and supple lubrication of fluid against rutted wood. The search party that Erebus had lead was not met as welcomingly as he had anticipated. But a full belly with food that was not tainted with old lingering haunts of a poorly constructed tin had a tendency to shift the tone and mood of many. Consolidation on needs that would be most prevalent were carried with them.

“How did you find us?” was the first thing that he was asked as he warmed himself by the stove in the great cabin on Terror. He was given a teacup of coffee. Francis looked at him knowingly. It was hot and that was all that mattered. Some sort of unspoken understanding passed between them as if Francis had confirmed a suspicion he had even though they had met naught two hours prior for the first time in both of their lives.

“That is what I do.” He had replied candidly. “That is what I am good at.” he offered but then paused. “Lillian McNeil,” he finally spoke and confessed. “I know him. If I did not, well…” He shook his head. “I would have figured it out.”

There was an unspoken understanding between Captain Francis Crozier and Erebus, the two of them sharing a queer and mutual comprehension that seemed to exist both outside of the hulls of the ships and yet woven tightly betwixt the both of them like a thread. He had told the Captain, now Commander of the Expedition, that Ross had sent him. There was a hope that glimmered in Francis Crozier’s eyes when those words were spoken. Knowing that there was aid to be had from the other ship, though some miles between the two of them, had done something to Captain Crozier that had the man looking as if he had received the greatest news of his life. “Deus Ex Machina, aren’t ye?” He had said it with a laugh. Disbelief in his tone as he huffed out that exhale. “For what it's worth, lad, I’m glad you are here. I’m not a man that believes strongly in anything I cannot see with my own two eyes. But I can see you. And I believe you. And you are a right blessing.”

Something shifted inside Erebus. Something hideous had shifted that day when he met Francis Crozier for the first time. Something hideous cracked inside his body and began to leak an unknown warmth deep in the pits of his body. “I will get you out of here.” He promised solemnly.

—

Whatever they had done to stave off the thing that was called Tuunbaq seemed effective enough. Though, knowing Heinrich, the thing was giving him the broadest berth that it could with the horrors that the man carried. Crew took over, eagerly following the barked orders of Leftenant Little and the rest of the team that came to gather their beloved crewmates inside the warmth of the belly of Terror, harbouring her young like a great beast in the hellscape that they were entrenched in.

He was beaming, quite proud, as he lingered to watch the swarm of midshipmen and alike unpack their sledge and usher the cold frigid and yet heaving hot bodies into the berth of their vessel. He watched as they swarmed like hungry ants for something that promised a next day and a proper meal. The sledge parties had gone without a hitch save for the storms that whipped viciously like an angry lashing through the barren tundra. The ever-white stretching on forever with little to shelter from hideously malicious winds could rip tents apart with the smallest of effort. For what it was worth, half catering to the directions of the other crew, they had managed to harbour safely along the ice flats that bore no topographical safety. They used the piled sledges to maintain a barrier between them and the direction of the wind, which seemed to sometimes change on a whim simply to spite the teams.

Most of their casualties were toes and, unfortunately, one pinky finger, the thing snapping right off like an iced-over twig in a much more familiar cold. Alas it was out of Heinrich’s control and far beyond the decency he would allot himself in this setting. He was there to keep the thing at bay and he did so quite well. The cluster of men were using what daylight they had, the hour late and dinner far for certain something that ought to have been underway by now. With all that they had brought it should last them a bit more still yet, supplementing their lack of proper sustenance that should have been adequate for their time already spent frozen in.

He examined the thaw happening about the hull of the ship, the water pooling a hideous hazard to the men as it would occasionally refreeze, pushing up and out in the flexing of the jaws of ice. Currently, it sat as a placid puddle about her body, several feet deep and so briney as to smell it on a stale day. It always reeked a bit of iron. He paid it no mind and consolidated his efforts in whittling away at whatever unusual force was causing such a malady in this inhospitable and desolate place. Even the indigenous folks were aware that something horrifically unusual was happening. There was no secret about that.

He was discrete, of course, and always was. But what he could not be discrete about was beginning to deeply rot inside of him like an infection. He mulled it over for a moment, the hideous machination that was bubbling up inside of him as he anticipated the source of the infection at any moment. Hodgson was off duty today. Which meant that surely it would come tapering down at any moment to provide the other Leftenant with much needed support in coordinating and organising the men. He was, after all, brilliant with maths.

“Mr. Reiss,” the voice had come from a direction that he was not anticipating it. He did not turn around. For he could not, his blood both simultaneously boiling and freezing over all in one fell swoop. He pretended to be occupied with something on his sleeve. He pretended to not notice. Finally, the voice was just beside him, behind him, far too close, far too pleasant, far too shaky in the cold. He wanted to fix that. And that, of all things, was a problem. “Mr. Reiss,” he called again, quieter. There was no need to shout in this proximity, after all.

His hips swayed as he turned but did not move where his feet planted; he smiled, fond and careful, charming as always, and a head taller, “Oh! Leftenant Irving. Nice of you to come. I have your manifests,” He pulled them from somewhere in his coat and handed them over, hands gloved in the finest of leather and fur that anyone aboard the ships had ever seen. They paled in comparison to anything that even Sir John Franklin would have possessed, damn and curse that man’s husk of a body. His jaw clenched as he watched Irving’s trembling hands accept the neatly bundled and tied parchments. His scarf had fallen loosely around his throat a little, exposing a bit of his throat as he looked up at Heinrich with a glimmer in his eye and a smile on his cracked lips. Heinrich wanted to vomit.

“Oh! Oh you are quite well with this all,” he spoke, his mittened hands fumbling with the folds of his greatcoat as he tucked them away hastily. “I m-must ask you,” his teeth began to chatter and Heinrich had half of a mind to shut him up right then and there, a visceral reaction coiling inside of him. “Would you be coming in and down for dinner? I’ve come to collect the lot of you two,” he gestured with a cant of his head to Little who was still coordinating the men, steps slick with fresh snowfall as they carefully team hauled crates and casks together.

This surprised Heinrich for it was not what he was anticipating at all. He had been prepared to droll about the materials and foodstuffs. He was prepared to discuss the extra fabric and blankets and some other raw materials which could be of use in keeping the crews comfortable. He was prepared to discuss the numerical values of every minute detail down to its last ounce. He was not prepared for John Irving to invite him to dinner. “In the Wardroom? With the lot of you?” His wrist made a limp circle as if collecting every bit of command into that encasement of which he would then be a part.

“It is the least we can offer for such efforts and your…” he licked his lips and Heinrich did the same. He desired to yell at the younger man for such a thing. Useless it was to apply saliva to one’s lips in these conditions. He ought to pull his small round of a tin and dab the oily slick of a salve he had brought along and run his finger along those slightly parted lips. He was snapped out of his thoughts, “generosity. It would be quite pleasant for you to share a meal with me- Ah- with us.” He smiled mindfully then, the coldburn of his cheeks inflamed.

“I could never deny your hospitality,” Heinrich’s feigned control was fitted to the small of his back as he tightly clenched his fists in a mock parade rest. He bent at the waist to masque the gesture as nothing more than simply courtesy. “I would delight in joining you for dinner, yes,” His accent was thick, his throat tight.

The way that John Irving seemed to rise on the balls of his feet for a moment and then lower himself back down not once but twice gave Heinrich the impression of someone resisting the urge to flee and run from him. Yet he stayed himself, hands clasped behind his own back. “I will help finish this up here then, you ought to head in. You must be utterly chilled to the bones,” his smile never left his lips nor the tinge in his chilled cheeks. Heinrich felt fine.

#the terror #my writing #writing blog #the terror amc #oc: ere #oc: nemesis #oc: lily #original terror characters #the terror fanfic #the terror fanfiction

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the-lennonade-stand · 1 year ago

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The World Sculptor

There is an office so well shrouded that only a carefully curated few know of its existence. There is nothing ordinary about this office. It is old, the scent of must emanating from every surface. Against one wall rests a rickety old chair and an accompanying desk, against another, rows of filing cabinets labeled with careful, elegant script. The office has no windows and no doors, but its sole occupant enters regardless.

The artist is ageless, eyes twinkling with boundless creativity and delight. The corner of the artist’s mouth is always turned up in a small smile, the origin of their amusement a carefully guarded secret. Their calloused hands constantly move, flying from adjusting their silvery hair to fiddling with a button on their shirt.

They sit at the desk, reaching deep into one of its many drawers and pulling out a handful of burning magma. They knead it between their fingers, forming it into a spherical shape. The shape is too big at first, so they set it to the side, the wood of their desk charing as molten rock sears it. They draw another fistful of magma from the desk, but are not pleased with that one either. They weigh the two forms, one in each hand with a small frown. Frustrated, they smash them together, and end up with two shapes- a larger sphere, and a smaller one orbiting the first and rapidly beginning to cool.

The magma of the main body begins to cool, steam rising off of it and collecting around the sphere. When the cloud gets heavy enough, it changes states once more, not into a gas this time, but a liquid. Water drains from the atmosphere of the shape to its surface, collecting into a giant pool.

The artist considers their project for a moment, then takes a few pinches of magma. They place them strategically around the rock base of their project, forming them into volcanoes. After thousands of years, the volcanoes have all erupted, forming land masses around the shape.

The geology of the shape is taking shape nicely, but the artist still feels something is missing. They spin the orb around and around, studying it from every angle. It looks similar to the countless projects they’ve completed before this- a volcanic rock that will lose its ocean in a few millennia, but it doesn’t feel quite right. And so, the artist decides to try something new.

They sketch a microscopic speck, tiny and insignificant, and bring it into being. It doesn’t do much- it consumes volcanic minerals at the ocean floor for nutrition, and can make identical copies of itself to survive. It lives in the blink of an eye, and when its time comes, it ceases to be. The artist smiles as they release a handful of these into the inhospitable oceans and sit back. They’ve tried experiments like this before. None of them worked.

The specks are still around after a few thousand years. Actually, they’ve changed, and they keep changing as time progresses. They adapt and evolve to any danger in their environment. Some specks have grouped up into strange marine lifeforms that swim around and consume each other for energy. The artist holds their breath. None of their other experiments have lasted this long or come this far.

Life flourishes before the artist as it creates plants, animals, and other forms of beings. A few times, the artist worries as most of it dies before them. But life always continues, evolving, adapting, overcoming. It surges out of the ocean and covers the continents, turning them lush and green, overrun with wonderful creatures. Massive reptiles rule the land, sea, and sky for a while, before perishing when some loose magma brushes against the project. New warm blooded creatures appear next, making themselves known as the world grows cold. In particular, a species of bipedal primates catches the artist’s eye.

This creature does not seem special at first. They live in small groups, hunting their prey to survive. But as time goes by, they adapt even faster than the other animals. Not physically, perhaps, but mentally. They forge tools from the earth the artist provided, and learn how to make the land grow food for them.

They call themselves “humans,” and soon, they’ve spread all over the rock. They shape the artist’s land to build structures, calling groups of them cities, and groups of cities nations. They live and die in the blink of an eye, dreaming of gods that shaped their world, these deities eerily similar to the artist themself.

Oh, do they create. War chariots rampage across Eurasia, and archers set their arrows alight before firing to maximize the death they can administer. They harness the artist’s power into explosives, meant for mining, repurposed for war.

The artist is sickened by war. Their creations slaughter themselves mercilessly for what they believe to be a noble cause. The artist sees nothing noble about it. Even in times of relative peace, the humans are still fighting. Murderers and thieves con and kill every day that passes. The artist is almost ready to scrap their project and start anew, but something catches their eye.

Amidst all of the chaos in their project, they see something else. Humans help each other, generously donating to each other in times of need, or sharing a particularly bountiful harvest. The closer the artist looks, the more of these instances they find. They feel immense pride in their creations. And then, on a continent the humans have named “North America,” they see a bright flash.

The humans have harnessed the power of their very building blocks to build bombs capable of wiping themselves out in the midst of a global war. In a blink of an eye, more nations have built and tested these weapons, and every one of them tensely hovers over the trigger.

It is almost time for the artist to submit their project, but they are entranced in this deadly stalemate their work has found itself in. They hold their breath as years slowly tick by and no action is taken. But then, they remember the potential for humans to build instead of destroy. All around them, they see great works- elegant buildings, impressive charities, and kindness. They cradle their planet in their hands and smile. They have faith in their creations to maintain their kindness. They take their planet and place it in a solar system, third from the Sun. And they choose a name for their planet.

Earth.

#writing #creative writing #origional content #paradox #prose

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desertsafarid · 2 months ago

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Anniversary in Desert: A Unique Celebration of Love and Adventure

Celebrating an anniversary is always a special occasion, but when you decide to mark the day in an extraordinary setting, such as the vast and mesmerizing desert, the experience becomes an unforgettable adventure. An anniversary in desert offers a unique blend of romance, tranquility, and natural beauty, creating a perfect atmosphere for couples looking to commemorate their love in an unconventional way. From the expansive golden sands to the breathtaking sunset views, a desert anniversary is a celebration that transcends the ordinary, offering an experience that is as much about the journey as the destination.

The desert, often perceived as a barren and inhospitable environment, is in fact a place of serene beauty. Its rolling dunes, wide-open skies, and rich hues of orange, pink, and purple at sunrise and sunset offer a sense of peace and isolation that few other places can replicate. For couples seeking a getaway that is far from the distractions of daily life, the desert presents an ideal backdrop for reflection, connection, and shared moments of joy.

One of the most enchanting aspects of an anniversary in the desert is the opportunity to disconnect from the outside world. In an age of constant connectivity and digital distractions, spending time in such a remote location allows couples to focus entirely on each other. Whether it’s stargazing under the clear desert sky or enjoying a quiet walk hand-in-hand across the dunes, the desert provides an environment where one can be fully present and engaged in the moment.

For those looking to elevate their anniversary celebration, there are plenty of luxury experiences available in the desert. Many resorts offer exclusive desert retreats, complete with lavish tents, private pools, and gourmet dining options. Imagine celebrating your special day in a luxurious tented suite, surrounded by the endless beauty of the desert landscape. These resorts often organize unique desert activities, such as camel rides, hot air balloon rides, and private desert dinners, allowing couples to experience the desert’s splendor in a way that feels both intimate and adventurous.

Another memorable option for an anniversary in the desert is a private dinner under the stars. Imagine enjoying a five-course meal in a secluded desert oasis, with only the sound of the wind and the crackle of a campfire for company. As the sun sets, the sky transforms into a canvas of stars, providing a breathtaking and intimate atmosphere. It’s the perfect setting for sharing intimate conversations, expressing love, and creating lasting memories.

If you’re seeking adventure on your anniversary, the desert offers ample opportunities for exploration and excitement. Whether it’s riding ATVs across the dunes, embarking on a guided hike through desert canyons, or even participating in a sandboarding session, there are plenty of activities to satisfy the adventurous spirit. These thrilling experiences not only provide excitement but also create shared memories that will bring you and your partner closer together.

For couples who enjoy a slower pace, a desert anniversary can also offer peaceful moments of reflection and mindfulness. The vast openness of the desert encourages introspection, making it an ideal setting for personal growth and bonding. Early morning sunrises are a great way to start the day in the desert, offering a tranquil time for couples to share their hopes, dreams, and aspirations while taking in the breathtaking beauty around them.

Moreover, many desert regions are home to fascinating wildlife and unique ecosystems, adding an element of discovery to your anniversary experience. From desert foxes to colorful birds and desert-adapted plants, there’s much to explore in terms of nature’s resilience and beauty. Visiting these regions with a knowledgeable guide can provide fascinating insights into the desert’s complex ecosystem, offering a deeper appreciation for the land that surrounds you.

The beauty of celebrating an anniversary in the desert also lies in its simplicity. In a world where many celebrations are centered around opulence and material extravagance, a desert anniversary allows you to celebrate your relationship in a way that is both humbling and awe-inspiring. The desert teaches you to appreciate life’s most essential elements—connection, tranquility, and adventure. It serves as a reminder that the most meaningful experiences don’t require excess; sometimes, the beauty of a moment lies in its simplicity.

In addition to the incredible experiences the desert has to offer, the landscapes themselves are a work of art. The interplay of light and shadow as the sun rises and sets over the dunes creates ever-changing vistas, each moment more beautiful than the last. For photography enthusiasts, this presents an opportunity to capture the essence of your anniversary in a truly unique setting. The photographs taken in the desert will serve as timeless reminders of your special day and the beauty of the natural world.

Read Too: Anniversary in Desert: A Romantic Escape Amid Golden Dunes

An anniversary in the desert also offers the opportunity to immerse yourself in the culture and history of the region. Many desert areas are steeped in rich traditions and history, with ancient civilizations once calling the desert home. Whether it’s exploring the remnants of old desert towns, visiting historic landmarks, or learning about the customs of local desert communities, there’s a wealth of culture to discover. This aspect can enrich your anniversary experience, providing both a sense of adventure and a deeper understanding of the desert’s place in history.

In conclusion, an anniversary in the desert is a celebration of love that goes beyond traditional norms, offering an unparalleled combination of natural beauty, tranquility, and adventure. Whether you seek peace and solitude, thrilling activities, or a chance to immerse yourself in the desert’s rich cultural history, the desert provides an unforgettable setting to commemorate your special day. It’s a place where the vastness of the landscape mirrors the boundless possibilities of your love, making your anniversary not just a day of celebration, but an experience that will remain etched in your hearts forever.

#Anniversary in Desert

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newmusickarl · 2 years ago

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5-9’s Album of the Month Podcast – Episode 9 Out Now!

The September review episode of the 5-9 Album of the Month Podcast is now available and as ever I take a seat alongside 5-9 Editor Andrew Belt and Check This Out’s Kiley Larsen to review five high profile album releases from the past month in music, and ultimately name one as our Album of the Month at the end of the discussion.

For this blockbuster episode, the five albums we discuss are:

Eat The Worm by Jonathan Wilson

The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We by Mitski

Strange Disciple by Nation of Language (poll winner, thanks for voting!)

This New Noise (Live) by Public Service Broadcasting

Everything Is Alive by Slowdive

If you want to listen to this or any previous episodes on Spotify simply click the link below, but also be sure to follow 5-9 Blog on Instagram and Twitter for more news and polls relating to the podcast, along with other great content like film reviews, sports articles and more.

Listen to the September 2023 episode here

Album & EP Recommendations

Paint My Bedroom Black by Holly Humberstone

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you’ll know I’ve always been a champion of singer-songwriter Holly Humberstone’s music. Hailing from Grantham in Lincolnshire, which is halfway between my original hometown of Lincoln and my current city of Nottingham, she is the local pop star for which I’m always rooting. She has had quite the career so far too, having built a devoted national following off the back of her excellent early EPs and, more notably, winning the Brits’ Rising Star award just last year. Now the biggest test of her career to date has arrived in the form of her debut album and I’m pleased to say, it delivers.

A couple of weeks back, I was fortunate enough to hear some of this album in full before its release at one of Holly’s acoustic shows here in her spiritual home of Nottingham. It was great insight into the songwriting process, hearing the songs on this debut record stripped-back to their bare bones and learning more about the stories and context behind each song. As it turns out, there’s a lot in here with which I can relate – insecurities, heartbreak, loved ones moving halfway across the world, anxiety-fuelled nights spent in hotel rooms and crazy nightclub sessions around Nottingham. With that being the case, this album can’t help but resonate for me and I find myself keep getting drawn back in to the stories and songs Holly has collected on this solid debut outing.

If there is one criticism it is that on occasion the sheeny pop production can sometimes distract from Holly’s songwriting, but for the most part she manages to get the balance just right. The brilliant title track is the perfect way to kick off the record, with Holly channelling the infectious grooves of The 1975 as she describes a brutal break-up on what is one of the album’s biggest standouts. After that, the acoustic blues of Kissing In Swimming Pools, the uneasy isolation of Ghost Me (which describes a drunken karaoke night in Nottingham’s own Rescue Rooms) and the dynamic, almost grungy d4vd collaboration Superbloodmoon, all also striking a chord in the first half.

That said it’s the second half where this record really hits home, with single Antichrist leading the charge thanks to its moody production and anthemic chorus of “I gave you bad love only.” It then goes into Lauren, which may just be my favourite of the whole record and is certainly one of the strongest lyrically, with Holly wishing she “could rewind to every Rock City night” as she recalls a strained relationship with her friend. Flatlining then rides its hospital-heart-monitor-inspired beat before Elvis Impersonators sees Holly share how much she misses her sister now she has moved to Japan. The album is then brought to a beautifully understated close with popular recent single, Room Service.

When an artist has a couple of strong EPs and none of the tracks feature on the debut, you can sometimes worry that they may have burned through their best songs too soon. Thankfully that’s not the case and on Paint My Bedroom Black, Holly proves herself to be an inspired songwriter that is still only just getting things started.

Listen here

Javelin by Sufjan Stevens

However, arguably the biggest release of early October has been the tenth studio album from highly acclaimed singer-songwriter, Sufjan Stevens. In the days following its release, Sufjan dedicated Javelin to his “beloved partner and best friend Evans Richardson” who sadly died in April of this year. With that added context, it made an album that already felt emotionally shattering hit that much harder.

From the moment the cymbals crash and the synths reverberate around Sufjan’s cries of “You know I love you” on opener Goodbye Evergreen, you know you are in for something quite special yet also heartbreaking. Over the next run of tracks Sufjan continues to astound with his unceremonious yet majestic songcraft, as the uplifting instrumentation twinkles around Sufjan’s devastating penmanship on tracks like A Running Start, Genuflecting Ghost and Will Anybody Ever Love Me?

However as great as the first half is, it is the back stretch that left my jaw firmly on the floor. My Red Little Fox is a heartfelt, flute-laden hymnal whilst lead single So You Are Tired is a brutally beautiful, piano-led, string-drenched lament. The way Sufjan cathartically tackles his grief on these tracks is reminiscent to Nick Cave on albums like Skeleton Tree and Ghosteen, allowing his pain and sadness to unload through the words whilst using the music to ensure it never becomes too overwhelming for the listener.

I can’t leave this blog however without mentioning one track in particular – Shit Talk. Without a doubt one of the songs of the year, it is a near 9-minute masterpiece centred around a strikingly simple assembly of raw acoustic instrumentation, resonant human emotions, gorgeous choral harmonies and refrains of “I will always love you…I don’t wanna fight at all.” Utterly breathtaking in every single way.

For me this is a record that ranks right up there with Sufjan’s finest records like Illinoise and Carrie & Lowell, with the Michigan-born songwriter sadly always seeming to produce his best work in the wake of such tragic circumstances. A beautiful yet devastating record that I fully expect to clean-up on some of the year-end lists come December – and it would be fully deserved.

Listen here

Crazymad, For Me by CMAT

From Sufjan’s tenth album to Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson’s sophomore outing now and it’s another record full of high points. Having only just released her debut last year, the artist known as CMAT has wasted little time in delivering an assured follow-up that successfully builds on the foundations laid with her breakout first album.

It starts very strong with California and Phone Me both joyous, string-tinged pop anthems, before midway through Robbie-Williams-endorsed John Grant collaboration - Where Are Your Kids Tonight? - still shines bright. However once again it’s the latter section where my favourite tracks seem to appear, with the piano-driven I…Hate Who I Am When I’m Horny seeing CMAT bemoan herself and her love life. Most recent single Stay For Something is then my pick of the whole bunch, thanks to some wonderfully bluesy guitars and CMAT’s own impassioned vocal cries of “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

Whilst admittedly I hadn’t completely bought into the CMAT hype the first time around, there are plenty of moments on Crazymad, For Me that have already had me coming back for repeat spins. A brilliant follow-up from an artist who shows no signs of slowing down her ever-gathering momentum.

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I Don’t Want You Anymore by Cherry Glazerr

Whilst technically arriving right at the end of September, the fourth album from American rockers Cherry Glazerr is another record that has been in rotation during the start of this month. As ever from the Clementine Creevy-led trio, I Don’t Want You Anymore is packed with big guitar riffs and a splash of psychedelia, but with frontwoman Creevy showing more vulnerability in her lyrics this time around. It means the band’s music hits even harder than before, with songs like Addicted To Your Love, Ready For You, Sugar and the title track all standing out.

That said, it is the early Smashing Pumpkins-style roar of Touched You With My Chaos that rises highest, thanks to some seismic guitar work and Creevy’s anguished cries of “I said that I loved you.” Overall though it’s another tour de force from Cherry Glazerr, ideal if you want something with more of a punk edge in your headphones this month.

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Versions by The Anchoress

It would take an extraordinary artist to tackle such established, iconic tracks by the likes of Depeche Mode, New Order, Radiohead, Nirvana, The Cure and more, and then turn them into something that is entirely their own. Thankfully Catherine Anne Davies – better known as The Anchoress - is no ordinary artist.

This really is the ballsiest of projects as with the aptly-titled Versions, The Anchoress doesn’t shy away from taking on some of the best-known hits from some of the world’s biggest bands, putting herself at risk of being scoffed at by loyalists to the originals. However even the most-ardent fans surely can’t help but admire the perfect balance The Anchoress strikes on this project, managing to remain true to the original classics whilst enshrouding them in her own mesmerising sonic aura.

So, if you want to hear an Autumnal take on some familiar favourites, dive into this one.

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Re: This Is Why by Paramore

Then if you want more reimaginings, American rock behemoths Paramore also recently released a new version of their highly-acclaimed sixth album, This Is Why. A combination of remixes, covers and collaborations, as well as a demo for unreleased track Sanity, this new version is admittedly a mixed bag with some of these reimagined efforts destined to have you reaching for the original album instead. That said, there are some moments worth checking out, particularly in the back-end where the collaborations with Romy of The XX, bedroom-popstar Claud and Boygenius’ Julien Baker are as good - and in at lease one case a slight improvement on - the original versions of Liar, Crave and Thick Skull respectively. Elsewhere there’s not much else, except Wet Leg also seem better suited to a track like C’est Comme Ça too!

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The Rest EP by Boygenius

And whilst we’re on the subject of Boygenius, I will also give a quick mention to their new 4-track EP, The Rest. Whilst Boygenius’ debut album The Record still hasn’t resonated with me in the same way it has for some, the Autumnal weather has brought about a new appreciation that has helped it to grow on me since I first dove into it earlier on this year. Now to round off their colossal year, the beloved trio have gifted fans an additional batch of tracks that weren’t finished in time to make that much-hyped debut. It’s an EP where each member takes a turn at stealing the spotlight for a song, with the beautiful Lucy Dacus-led Afraid of Heights my personal pick of the bunch.

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Also worth checking out: The Darker The Shadow The Brighter The Light by The Streets, Formentera II by Metric, Buy This Now! By Uni Boys

Tracks of the Week

Dancer by IDLES & LCD Soundsystem

On the singles front, it has been a fortnight of comebacks and collaborations, starting with this beast from post-punk favourites IDLES which dropped this week. Teaming up with none other than LCD Soundsystem, Dancer is the first single to be taken from their forthcoming fifth studio album, TANGK. With the new album described as a collection of love songs, Dancer is IDLES at their raucous best thanks to an instant chorus, a big bassline and those signature raw punk riffs.

Watch the entertaining video for the track here

Run Run Run by The Libertines

Also announcing their return, likely lads The Libertines have announced their first new album in 9 years will drop in March, titled All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade. Run Run Run is the opener to that upcoming record and it’s certainly a promising start, reminiscent of the quality you would expect during the band’s early 00s heyday.

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My Youngest Son Came Home Today by Billy Bragg & Michael Stipe

Celebrating 40 years in music, Billy Bragg is set to release his new album boxset The Roaring Forty at the end of the month, which features more than 300 tracks including highlights from each of Billy’s twelve studio albums, non-album singles and B-Sides, session tracks, rare live recordings, collaborations and previously unreleased material from across his career. To help promote it, he has widely released this collaboration with REM’s Michael Stipe for the first time, which is a haunting and timely cover of the Eric Bogle classic of the same name.

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Blanket / What Should I Do? by Kevin Abstract

Venturing out into his post-Brockhampton musical life, Kevin Abstract has announced his next solo record will be titled Blanket and arrives early next month. Most intriguingly the American rapper/singer-songwriter has stated the project was inspired by Sunny Day Real Estate, Nirvana and Modest Mouse, influences you can certainly hear on these first two teaser tracks. What Should I Do is a melodic, guitar-driven cut whilst Blanket even carries some shades of Blur’s Song 2 with its raw rock riffs and shouts of “WOO!”

Is a genre-bending affair imminent or is this a complete direction change altogether for Abstract? I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

Listen to Blanket here

Listen to What Should I Do here

Tantor by Danny Brown

Also dropping a new project in November (which is technically his second album of 2023 following the acclaimed JPEGMAFIA collab album, Scaring The Hoes) is Detroit rapper Danny Brown. Quaranta will be Danny’s first solo outing in four years, but this first taster track shows he hasn’t lost his step in the time he’s been away. Tantor intriguingly begins with the old internet dial-up tone, before a bizarre beat comes in, almost reminiscent of a TV theme you’d find on an old detective show. Wonderfully weird experimental rap as always from Danny Brown.

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The Hills by Rachel Chinouriri

Also releasing the first taste of her highly anticipated debut record which is rumoured to drop early next year, The Hills is one of British singer-songwriter Rachel Chinouriri’s most instantly anthemic tracks to date. Riding a wave of soaring guitars, it’s a song about feeling like you don’t belong, written whilst Rachel was recording in LA. Bring on the debut!

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Trust Exercises by Easy Life

And finally on the songs front this week, the Leicester-based band (now formally known as) Easy Life have been the talk of the music world the last few weeks. This follows the news that air travel company EasyJet were unjustly forcing them to change their band name, causing an awful set back for a band just trying to establish themselves and make their way in the music world. It’s another horrible story of a big corporate entity stifling creativity and I hope Easy Life manage to bounce back under their new guise. In the meantime, they were at least able to have a triumphant headline show as Easy Life for one final time, whilst also releasing this single. So help them out and go give it a spin!

Listen here

Also worth checking out: Mud by bdrmm, To Do List (After The Breakup) by Blossoms, DArkSide by Bring Me The Horizon, HEAVEN’S GALAXY by Kid Cudi, Long Way by Lonely The Brave, Shame by Lauren Mayberry, I Can’t See Past Monday by Lossline

REMINDER: If you use Apple Music, you can also keep up-to-date with all my favourite 2023 tracks through my Best of 2023 playlist. Constantly updated throughout the year with songs I enjoy, it is then finalised into a Top 100 Songs of the Year in December.

Add the playlist to your library here

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douglysium · 1 month ago

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Scavengers

Sometimes referred to as “Scavies”, “Scavs” or any other number of slang terms, they are the people who are forced to survive the dastardly environments of Earth’s surface and scrounge out a living in its polluted wilds. While they are often lumped together or treated as one vague faction, the term “Scavenger” actually refers to a wide range of small to medium tribes, societies, settlements, and peoples. However, due to the nature of Earth’s environment, they often share certain similarities. For example, they are usually forced to wear protective suits that shield them from the toxic environment and contain air for them. They typically live in (relatively) safe underground cave systems, bunkers, or structures (such as subway tunnels). Often their homes are within or near a rare pocket of breathable air, drinkable water, or some such.

While some groups of Scavengers have solar powered machinery, sunlight rarely shines down on most of Earth’s surface. This forces them to rely on wind and the occasional lightning power but even these alone rarely provide enough power indefinitely due to their meager resources. Forcing them to go out to gather more resources. Sometimes this is merely scavenging the ruins of dead settlements, at other times it is trading with their neighbors, and in the most desperate of situations it involves raiding or attacking others to plunder their resources. Sometimes they are forced to hunt mutants for flesh but they have, by some miracle, managed to domesticate or tame certain mutants. Although, wild mutants or automatons can wreak havoc on any aboveground populations and structures. Due to this most Scavengers live underground in sealed off structures or caves. They are usually very secretive when it comes to the location of their “bunkers.” They also tend to have small farms or food stores in their bunker.

Given their lifestyle, Scavengers are generally more knowledgeable about the harsh wilds of the Earth than some of the more reclusive factions. It is not unheard of for them to be hired to gather old relics or materials out from the wasteland or even act as guides to locations of interest.

Survival in such an inhospitable world can require using anything at your disposal. Almost all Scavs have permanent injuries or scars caused by the environment. Their suits and machines often look cobbled together due to the constant recycling and repairing of anything usable they can get their hands on. Their population is also rife with mutations. Some of these mutations are caused by the pollution in the environment and can take the form of things like strange tumors, limbs, or horns. Other mutations are actually artificial, created at some point in time as a way to help better survive the wasteland or serve some other purpose. Some of these mutations were made long ago in a last ditch attempt by people to adapt to the rapidly changing environment while others are more recent. The more recent ones are pulled from various “genestocks”, pools of DNA, genetic information, and key organs . These resources are not to be wielded flippantly, however. Firstly, there can be a limited supply so using them without a good reason can be a waste. Secondly, there are a host of potential side effects that could occur. The most common involves the body being reshaped to take on some aspects of the source of the genetic material used but it can also be things like illnesses, mental issues, etc.. Mixing different genestock can prove risky if the stores contain different types of DNA. Because of the risk, usually only certain members or types of people are given genestock. Some tribes only give it to the severely injured or elderly to save them or prolong their life while others only give the material to those who have undergone specific training, tests, or rituals.

The drawbacks of genestock can be circumvented to varying degrees by “recycling” genestock deemed stable by pulling some genetic samples from someone previously infused with a gene stock in order to resupply it. However, doing this mixes human DNA into the supply, diluting it over time. While this does tend to make it less risky to use, since it becomes closer to humans, some of the more useful genestock could have their potency reduced overtime. A factor that leaves some in search of new and effective genstock. Genestock can also be taken from other humans if it proves effective enough and if they have desirable abilities or traits. New genestock can be hard to come by. It can be gathered from the mutants prowling the Earth but this proves risky both in finding the mutants and possible side effects of the DNA. Some trade with or raid the Arks for their sources of genetic material. Some Scav groups have replenishable genestock in the form of cloned animals, cloned organs, or livestock but not all groups have the resources or space to maintain such facilities. Clean air itself may also be a limited supply and some can actually harvest the oxygen from recently dead or still living bodies in order to make breathable air.

Reuse and recycle is a major unspoken rule of many in the wastes. Scavs waste not even their dead, often gathering what salvageable organs, biomass, and / or genestock they can for potentially life saving resources, transplants, or augmentations later. Sometimes a Scav will have additional organs added onto / into them in order to increase their strength and / or other attributes. Some Scavs resort to cannibalism when needed but this is not a universally held practice, and some even speak of diseases or curses spawning from cannibalistic acts.

Technological augmentations are just as commonly seen as genetic ones. Prosthetic limbs and artificial body parts are a common sight amongst Scavengers. These are usually made from whatever parts they can get their hands on, sometimes forcing them to hunt rogue automata or rampant machines for parts. In turn, this can give their parts an eclectic look. Usable equipment and gear is retrofitted from the fallen whenever possible by most. The taking of someone else’s genetic material, biomass, organs, or equipment is seen as a way of mourning them by some.

Scavengers have a much wider genetic diversity amongst their population than humans of the past. This means some of the more “tame” looking Scavies can still have traits like naturally colorful hair (such as red) or strangely colored skin (such as purple) from birth.

The term “beastman” refers to Scavengers that have had their mental and physical capacities reduced to that of an animal or wild mutie due to extreme mutation or the side effect of less than savory genestock. Sometimes this effect is permanent, other times temporary. A beastman’s level of aggression can also vary on a case-by-case basis, but they can be seen fighting alongside Scavengers just as often as they fight against them. What exactly constitutes a beastman may vary depending on the settlement, clan, or tribe and some just consider beastmen mutants.

Current Day

The “blue skies” are of great interest to them as areas they can safely gather sustainable energy and potentially operate without their protective suits. They usually stride to avoid losing manpower in acts of conflict but tend to be unafraid of fighting others over these oases. Something that can prove a very real issue when some factions are prone to seeing the Scavs as disgusting vermin, filthy people, or even wild mutants. There are rumors of a great ruler wandering the Earth and uniting the Scavengers left without a safe space to call home into a unified peoples.

Themes

The faction has a very on the nose “don’t judge people on their appearance” type of beat. Their life on Earth has caused them to end up looking more “monstrous” or “animalistic” by the standards of the average person but they are still people with rich lives and depth.

A core theme of these people is to show how terrible situations, violence, or oppression can lead to people lashing out or doing horrible things to survive. Many people look down on the Scavs as barbaric but they have a tough life and it is questionable how many would do much better (most wouldn't). As the environment improves and more resources become available most Scavs are more open and kind because they can afford to lose more and take more risks. It’s easier to lend a helping hand when trusting the wrong person doesn’t lead to the downfall of your entire neighborhood and family. In a way, the Scavs also represent a lay average person, in contrast to the high-minded environmentalist, or world’s wealthiest.

The Scavs also have themes of trauma. While some factions sit in relatively safe or sheltered positions the Scavs are forced to endure the brunt of the pollution. This has caused many to lose hope for a better world and others view some of the other factions as “pampered” or “soft.” Some believe that their harsh environment has made them stronger and better than others but they may be forced to learn that it’s not so straightforward. While it may have allowed them to stomach the present, some may be blind to a better future or burned out. So they must learn to hope once again.

Due to how diverse the Scavs can be, they aren’t always on the same page and can even come into conflict with each other.

Art Direction

Even without their suits, the Scavengers have a very distinct appearance. Often scarred by the unforgiving environment and using makeshift equipment while also being mutated by both environmental factors and their own modifications. Prosthetics and machine augmentations are not uncommon too. Given their lifestyle, much of their technology, equipment, and even body parts are recycled and reused, giving them a very frankensteined and chaotic look. Since they tend to use whatever they can get their hands on, the fuels and sources they use depend on the kinds of machines they have access to. A lot of their equipment looks like rubble, trash, or old technology that was retrofitted and passed down but they can also be seen using the equipment of other factions, be it from discarded material, traded goods, or spoils of plunder.

This faction’s appearance usually seems mismatched and eclectic. Their machines and equipment look like something straight out of a post-apocalypse movie (think a mix of Mad Max and 40k’s orks). Their bunkers are often retrofitted buildings, caves, and underground structures. Even their bodies can be varied and exaggerated (potentially looking like some of the more humanoid X-Men mutants or 40k Genestealers). Many Scavs have visible injuries, scars, or damage from the environment or the dangerous things that lurk within.

Fighting Style

They often carry weapons for self-defense. The fighting styles can vary greatly depending on the specific settlement(s) the Scavs in question are a part of but they generally rely on different forms of guerilla tactics (“a type of warfare fought by irregulars in fast-moving, small-scale actions”). The lives of their warriors are not something that they can just throw away carelessly or risk losing in direct protracted combat. They have no qualms about using underhanded tactics or stealing if it helps avoid further conflict or secure victory.

Their power armor usually looks as mismatched as the rest of their equipment and focuses on greatly improving the strength and durability of the wearer to allow for great speed and strength. It is not uncommon for them to have weapons built in.

Notable Scav Groups

Dracks- They specialize in a resilience against high temperatures thanks to the nature of their primary genestock, equipment, and expertise. Usually noted as being tough and having scales that act like armor or blades provided by their genestock along with muscle, claws and the occasional tail or sharp teeth. Some of them can actually withstand direct fire or even plasma shots for prolonged periods of time, which is thought to have inspired their name (taken from draco or dragon). They are known to embrace this imagery by adorning themselves with the scales or teeth of various reptiles. The most common weapons amongst them are scrapguns, flamethrowers, and plasma weapons. The Dracks have a close relationship with the Avi and marriage between members of the two or exchanging of them is common. Some even have genestock traits from both. They thrive in the steamy swamps of what was once the Southern US within the remains of a military base that was converted into a bunker. Said bunker has a massive cannon that autofires and reloads constantly at anything flying near it, adding a layer of protection from automata and mutants of the air. They are sometimes hired as warriors, navigators, or hunters. They are somewhat famous for their drakounds. Dogs that have been given a particular combination of genestock in order to withstand the environment of the wastes. They are usually used as hunting or tracking dogs and pets while some grow big enough to ride. They worship the Syberelmian “god” AI Th3ra as a war god. However, turning to Th3ra is not made lightly, and asking for Th3ra’s aid is to only be made during the most desperate of times since it risks reducing those communing with it to avatars of hatred and violence. They usually represent Th3ra with a symbol of burning dragon fire or a fiery dragon.

Avi- Their emphasis on mobility and speed makes them excellent scouts and navigators while the ocular enhancements they are prone to using make them famed snipers. As a trade off, their genestock tends to make them more frail and they tend to be less heavily armored and equipped. Their genestock can grant them feathers, beaks, parrot-like vocal cords, claws, bigger eyes and strangely bird-like legs that allow for faster than normal running speeds and extremely high jumps. Some have wings that allow for increased balance while running or even gliding. Flying is possible but extremely rare. Due to their bird-like appearance they sometimes adorn suits with feathers and the like. Their name comes from the word “avian.” They are sometimes hired as scouts or navigators. Sometimes they use genetically modified birds to send messages or track targets. Their bunker is in a mountain. They don’t seem to interact with the Syberelm much if at all.

Aphi- A Scav group that is famous for their incredible regenerative abilities provided by both their amphibian-focused genestock and medical equipment. Some can heal minor wounds in moments as long as they are nourished properly, others never biological age, and there are those who can regenerate a lost head if given enough time. They make use of bioengineered “toadies” as pets and helpers. Small toad-like creatures that can aid in carrying objects, combat, etc.. The toadies usually wear water filled respirators to help them breathe. The name of these Scavies comes from the word “amphibian.” Sometimes they are hired as medics. The bunker that makes up their settlement lies in a body of water. Their territory is located near that of the Dracks. They don’t seem to interact with the Syberelm much if at all.

Cruscae- A collection of Scavies that are famous for both their expertise in blacksmithing and crustacean-centered genestock. Claws, multiple arms or legs, and tough crab or lobster-like armor is not uncommon amongst those who have partaken in their genestock. They lean towards large and tanky with heavy armor and weapons. Some wear the armor of other creatures in concert with their own. These Scavengers make use of modified crabs that can act as moving platforms and help in the shipping of large equipment or catches. Sometimes they are hired as extra muscle, protection, or to transport something. Their name comes from the word “crustacean.” The bunkers that make up their settlement lie in bodies of water. Their territory is located near that of the Dracks and Aphi. They don’t actively worship Stiart, digital god of creation, but on rare occasions a Cruscae may find that they have mastered the art of blacksmithing or forging so thoroughly that Stiart attempts to reach out and influence them to create even grander and more skilled pieces of art.

Celap- A group of Scavs that are iconic for making use of genestock fueled from that of octopi and various cephalopods. Most notably, some who have partaken in these genestock have enlarged craniums or more advanced nervous systems that allow for quicker thinking and better recollection. The presence of tentacles, long limbs, fewer bones, beaks, ability to change colors, or suctions are also not unheard of. Sometimes they sell their services as navigators or information brokers. Art made from the ink of squid or octopus is considered meaningful to them. Their name comes from “cephalopod.” The bunkers that make up their settlement lie in bodies of water. Their territory is located near that of the Aphi and they install special cybernetics that allow them to intercept and listen to signals and information traveling through the air. This comes with the downside of hearing the radio waves and noise the Miasmic Haze gives off which can drive the unprepared and untested mad without proper meditation and training. Most of the time these signalseers hear static accompanied by “screams” and shrieks interrupted by the occasional computer or radio signal moving through the area. There is the risk of signalseers being hacked by rogue AI, viruses, or programs without the proper firewall setup and contingency plans. They are very aware of, and active in, the Syberelm. In their culture, the Syberelm is just as real and important as the physical world and acts as a higher plane of existence. They believe that when someone dies their mind is pulled into the Syberelm. They have a strong connection and respect for Ch3ras, god of knowledge and information, and are not afraid of communing with it for information. For the Celap, knowledge itself is divine and those that cannot handle the truth are wanting in mind and / or body. They have a high number of Syeers.

Hynopt- A group of Scavengers that have an inclination for using the DNA of bees, wasps, ants, and other such bugs in their genestock. Those who have taken part in this genestock tend to be on the smaller side in frame but often have the ability to communicate with bees, wasps, and / or ants in addition to others who have taken in similar genestock with a combination of pheromones and buzzing. This tends to make them very good at working together. So much so that the way they almost wordlessly communicate can come off as eerie to some. There are those with the ability to climb walls, have multiple limbs, exoskeletons, compound eyes, or even some sort of stinger / poison. They are very adept at gardening and cultivation despite the polluted environment they live in and make use of bioengineered helpers and warriors that take the form of small bee or ant-like creatures that can be given commands via special machines, pheromones, or buzzing noises. Their name stems from “hymenoptera.” Their territory is located near that of the Avi. Some use their bodies as living hives in which to store modified bees, wasps, and / or ants and they have variations of their armor that act like portable hives. They have strong connection to the Syberelmian god of Nucti0mym. It seems that Nucti0mym may have actually somehow influenced their genestock and the Hynopt have settlements across the world that are held in unity by the digital god.

Chitera- A clan of Scavengers that make use of genestock filled with the genetic information of bats, cats, and rats. They have multiple bunkers spread out across a large complex underground cave system. The Chitera have a lot of experience in using stealth tactics and navigating in extremely dark, confusing, or winding conditions. The genestock they use draws mostly from bats, cats, and rats grants some the ability to move in complete silence, sharp claws, fangs, and / or even use echolocation for navigation. Others have other senses enhanced, such as enlarged eyes or more advanced noses and the ability to detect air flow. The go to strategy of the Chitera is usually that of stealth and sneak attacks, using the darkness of the night or the Miasmic Haze to operate when others cannot and gather precious resources or strike. Currently, their existence is under threat by a Mammoin Co. city moving towards their territory, which risks destroying most, if not all, the bunkers they call home and polluting the caves. Sometimes they offer their services as navigators. Some mutated Chitera Scavs have wings and / or large ears. They’ve always had a small present in the Syberelm and a few of them used the digital space to aid in navigation but in recent times the threat of their clan’s destruction has lead to many of them becoming more desperate. Some turn to the Syberelm for answers and have even begun consulting digital entities for aid. Most notably at the moment, P33sca, god of secrets, freedom and chaos, as well as Ch3ras, god of knowledge and information.

Bomiltle- A group of Scavs that pull from genestock filled with biomass from beetles. Primarily those of bombardier beetles and fireflies for the creation of bright lights, heat, and / or explosions, which they use to disorient and blitz enemies or prey. Most of them know how to use morse code to communicate and a lot of them are noted as being mute and / or deaf because of a side effect caused by their genestock, forcing further reliance on morse code via light, or the buzzing of wings and other noises. They have tough armor but don’t look super bulky and fight very aggressively and at close quarters. They live near the Avi on the same mountain. Sometimes the Bomiltle are hired for demolition, hunting, communication or navigation. Their name comes from bombardier, firefly, and beetle. They have a preference for plasma and laser weapons.

Rokach- A bunch of Scavenger groups that live around the Mammoin company city closest to the Dracks, Avi, Aphi, Cruscae, Celap, Hynopt, Chitera and Bomiltle despite the typically violent roiling of the Haze around it. They survive the harshest of pollutants thanks to a hardy combination of genestock that includes samples from the likes of wasps, cockroaches, and some of Earth’s hardiest creatures. Said company city is also the largest moving one in North America currently and the Rokach sometimes even engage in blackmarket deals and trades with the inhabitants. Some use them as scouts, informants, or a sort of middle man between the inhabitants of the city and the Scavengers that lie outside it. They have also been known to steal or loot from the city when given the opportunity. The inhabitants of the city look at them with distrust at best or as muck-dwelling bottom feeders subsisting off the splendor of the company at worst. Some of those who run from the city end up amongst the Rokach and some Rokach actually consider themselves citizens with their own job and designation. As the massive city moves it carves a deep canyon into the Earth’s crust which many Rokach’s travel and hide in. Carapaces, stingers, and multiple, sometimes insectoid, limbs are not uncommon amongst their population. However, their population is small due to the harmful pollution and miasma the nearby city pumps out, causing all but the most resilient to die.

Paeo- A group of Scavengers with genestock containing the genetic information of both gorillas, rhinos, and elephants. Those who are mutated by the genestock tend to have very large builds and thick gray skin, with some having tusks, horns, or even opposable feet. Their bunker was destroyed by the Mammoin’s largest company city in North America moving through it, destroying their clean air supply and food. This has forced them to scatter. Some have managed to ally with the Chitera, but the faction can only take in so many refugees with such limited resources, while others use the last moments of their life to wage war on Mammoin for revenge and resources. They are a warrior culture and can move quite quickly and adeptly through a multitude of terrains despite their often large size. Dual wielding weapons is a common practice amongst the mutated. After the destruction of their bunker many of them have been convinced to join Th3ra, Syberelm’s god of rage, for a chance at vengeance against Mammoin Co.

Operation: Blue Sky

Prelude

“In the grim darkness of the future, a miasmic haze smothers sunlight and hope in equal measure. Oxygen too has become a limited resource. They are left to fight for limb and breath, light and life even.”

It is the distant future, the lost millennium, the final years, and the world is in shambles as a storm of pollutants rages across most of the planet. What year it is exactly is unknown. Some people claim to know the century or even the exact date, but, in reality, no one can be 100% certain as much knowledge and wisdom has been lost or destroyed, yet to be reclaimed.

Long ago, there was a period of rapid industrialization and technological advancement. After much political lobbying, this led to the relaxation of environmental and safety laws across the globe. The biggest countries were the first to do this in an attempt to attract businesses to their territories and encourage unfettered technological growth.

Unfortunately, this led to rapid pollution, leading to much of the natural biosphere dying. Countless species went extinct and entire islands of plastic sat in the souring seas while smog and smoke choked the sky and rivers caught ablaze. Many nations tried to perform damage control with the implementation and creation of green technologies and energies but the bureaucracy left many too slow to act. In many areas sources of natural energy, such as the sun and water, had been blotted out or too polluted to effectively be used or consumed despite the efficiency of green energy and the newly invented bioorganic batteries.

By then even the air became a finite resource and war soon broke out across the planet over the few remaining sustainable areas and resources. This conflict was even bigger than the previous world wars, involving weapons far more advanced and destructive. Nations and companies began purposely destroying and polluting the dwindling sources of sustainable resources and energy in an attempt to cripple their enemies or force further reliance on their own sustainable resources, giving them more trade and political power. New never-before-seen forms of technology were made for war. Including completely automated weapons and drones as well as genetically engineered super soldiers and mutant animals with all manner of biological weapons. Time was running out and all the supposedly great countries wished to finish this conflict as quickly as they could. So they resorted to even more gruesome and dastardly weapons.

Some of the biggest companies played multiple opposing sides and would purposefully continue using environmentally harmful sources of energy that pump all manner of pollutants into the land, water, and air whenever possible. Even below ground was not exempt. This was done because it was cheaper and if the pollution happened to affect the business’ own areas it would force more reliance on their products (such as air tanks, water filters, gas masks, and oxygen mines) to survive. Some places banned such practices but plenty of companies did all they could to find loopholes and technicalities. Some even invented mobile oil drills and went to international waters to avoid the law.

Suffice it to say, most of the world died slowly and painfully. The once blue sky and oceans became sickly greens, and the sky itself was covered by a seemingly eternally roiling storm cloud of smog and pollutants. Acid can fall from the skies at a moment's notice and, despite the usually cloudy weather, temperatures are astronomically high during the day and freezing cold at night. For many, trying to survive on Earth is almost like trying to survive on another planet. Most people have not seen a blue sky. Weapons, both living mutants and automated self-repairing machines, stalk the landscape. Many people have not even felt the warmth of the sun, only the searing heat of a humid and dangerous landscape. If anyone has found hope among the space between the stars they have remained silent. Since ocean levels have risen many lands are now submerged either completely or partially by acidic brine containing islands of plastic and trash. Sometimes the storm roils and sends strong winds or burning smog across the landscape. Rivers can burst into flames and the oceans have become too acidic and soured to most life forms. Most breathable air is artificially made from oxygen harvested from mines.

Some will argue that this end was unavoidable. Some will say it was because of human nature while others speak of natural disasters. There are even some who claim that the world always burned, that the Miasmic Haze was always there, that the sky was never blue, that the sky was always a sickly green and it will continue to be that way until the sun swallows the Earth. But this, of course, is a lie. One meant to comfort the hopeless and give warmth to those wallowing in misery. You cannot crush what is already dashed to powder and cinders.

Miasmic Haze

The great storm that covers most of the planet is known by many names but the most common name is the Miasmic Haze. It has become an unavoidable part of life on the planet. At its calmest, it resembles dark sickly colored clouds that cover the sky and cast the world in a darkness that rivals the night. At its worst, it manifests as terrible storms and hurricanes that rain acid and lightning. In some areas, storms of trash or debris may even form. Sometimes a thick toxic smog coats the land. This smog is considered a part of the storm, however.

The air in most areas is unbreathable due to the effects of Miasmic Haze. There are “safe areas” with pockets of oxygen or breathable air but most of Earth’s surface has been rendered nearly inhospitable to normal humans, and the production of artificial air is required. The clouds of the Haze itself can be extremely toxic or even acidic, and can quickly poison someone or erode their lungs. In the worst-case scenario merely being without protection will expose someone to acid in the air that will eat away at the flesh of all but the toughest of flesh. Inhaling the air of the Haze is known to cause strange hallucinogenic effects that make the afflicted see strange visions and creatures. There are many rumors and myths involving this hallucinogenic effect but the Haze’s impact on perception makes it all the more dangerous.

The Haze can also interfere with machines due to all the strange particles and debris within its system. It is also known to on occasion make strange sounds that can sound like screams or howling in the wind. Additionally, the clouds can interfere with communication and even give off strange signals. The Haze can appear a multitude of colors, even iridescent, depending on various factors and weather patterns. The Haze tends to make flight and air travel more difficult but not impossible. Flying through a particularly stormy area rarely ends well however.

Some are experts at “reading” the Haze using either machines or natural skills. This can help with navigation and preparing for the weather. While much of the Haze is in flux, specific parts seem to be relatively constant, such as the flow of specific currents or clouds. Which can make them decent markers for navigation.

Openings in the Miasmic Haze are a rare phenomenon known as rifts. There are very specific areas that have frequent rifts but these are few and far between. Rifts are the only time direct unfiltered sunlight will touch the Earth’s surface. Which makes them extremely vital as both safe zones and sources of solar power. Usually the sky is a sickly green with the sun appearing red, and the air is still unsafe to breathe, but it is generally safer. However, there has been increasing commotion as reports of a “blue sky” and “yellow sun” appearing at various rifts have been made. Additionally, the storm is shifting on a global scale. Rifts are becoming more common and the Miasmic Haze seems like it's actually becoming weaker or thinning in places, allowing for more sunlight to shine through. More pockets of breathable air have been showing up, global temperatures have been slightly less extreme, and the air quality has started improving despite the air still being unsafe to breathe in for most areas.

These rumors have caused many of the large factions to become more active. Some see this as an omen for good and others ill. Some believe a new era is beginning and it's time for the Earth to begin anew while some say this marks the end. Only time will tell, it seems as the factions begin moving into action.

Solar Flare

There is a massive solar flare, often shortened to “the Flare”, that has been raging for an indeterminate amount of time. It makes long distance communication and more sensitive equipment unreliable or finicky at random or inopportune. There are special electromagnetic shields and materials meant to ward off the effects of this flare.

Present Day

After an untold amount of time there have been reports of blue skies being spotted in certain parts of the world. Not only that, but there has been a greater presence of “rifts” (openings in the Miasmic Haze) that allow for the sun to shine through. In tandem with the increased amount of rifts, the Haze has become less predictable. This has caused much upheaval across the world as factions react differently in preparation for the turning of a new age. Some see it as a chance to revitalize the Earth and others to reset it. For some it is a chance at rebirth and other people a chance to finish what was started untold ages ago.

Suffice it to say, there has been a great increase in activity across the world. People fight over the sources of sunlight in an attempt to fuel their factions while others fear the loss of their power. Some factions are attempting to terraform the planet while others fight to halt progress. Change will not occur quickly but it is clear that it will involve blood.

Technology Level

The technology level of the world is quite advanced despite the Earth’s post-apocalyptic state. Plasma weapons are not unheard of along with AI and completely self-sufficient machines. Cold fusion has been discovered and can even take the form of portable batteries and / or generators. However, some of the factions do not know how to make them while others do not have the resources to make them. Cold fusion batteries are often referred to as “Star Cores” because it is said they look like stars and nuclear fusion itself is the process that occurs in stars (in contrast to nuclear fission). Cold fusion isn’t literally cold but occurs at a much lower temperature (room temperature) than normal nuclear fusion. While it does produce radioactive substances and can be dangerous if not handled properly, the process does not create any extremely long-lived radioactive substances. For some, seeing a Star Core is the closest they’ve gotten to seeing the sun or the glittering stars of the night sky. Some Star Cores are also designed to draw additional energy or power from the sun with solar power if possible. Machines with Star Cores often have glowing orbs on them.

Plasma guns are often known as “star guns” because their plasma can resemble burning stars or the sun. These weapons can prove devastating to machinery, but there are electromagnetic fields that protect from plasma weaponry. Their projectile tends to move relatively slower than a bullet, so there aren’t a lot of plasma sniper rifles or extremely long-ranged plasma equipment, but they are quite damaging nonetheless. They can be powered by a variety of energy sources and the plasma can come in different colors. Plasma guns can usually be identified by the presence of tubes or canisters of coolant present on the weapon as well as special vents or fans along with a coil in which the plasma is made and shaped somewhere in the gun. Usually the coil is surrounded by or submerged in coolant. Plasma guns can easily overheat without proper cooling or if large shots are fired off too quickly within a small enough time frame. If one is lucky, a plasma gun overheating will simply cause the weapon to stop firing or break but in a worst case scenario the weapon can explode, catch fire, or severely burn the user. Most plasma guns allow for some level of customization over the type of shots fired. Allowing for bigger more energy intensive shots or smaller less energy consuming shots. Plasma guns have batteries in the place of normal ammunition. Once these batteries become drained they must be changed out or recharged. The coolant also has to be periodically refilled too.

There also exist plasma blades, weapons that have the edge of their blades composed of plasma kept together by an electromagnetic field. They are extremely hot and dangerous but only the edge of the blade is composed of plasma. Some can switch between a normal blade and a plasma blade that can cut through metal like butter. Like plasma guns, they usually have compartments or tubes containing coolant somewhere on the weapon. Some can release super heated coolant or steam from the tip of the weapon to potentially burn opponents.

Plasma can be affected or blocked by magneshields.

Tesla guns are arguably a subcategory of plasma guns. They work by firing a bolt of lightning / electricity at the target. They can fire extremely quickly but the lightning moves so quickly that it can be difficult to aim and one risks hitting other targets, especially if there is something that draws lightning to it nearby. They do have a coil in their muzzle along with coolant but tend to be longer than other plasma weapons. Not to mention that their muzzle ends in a disk like protrusion with a needle in the center.

Like standard plasma guns, these guns are affected by magneshields.

Laser guns are guns that fire a concentrated superheated beam of light. Despite things like blooming effecting how far the lasers can travel, they are still often used as long distance precision weapons (such as sniper rifles). They are much more accurate than projectile or plasma weapons because the lasers are virtually unaffected by things such as wind, meaning they lose very literal accuracy at long distances. Plus, they often have little to no noticeable recoil. When they fire they don’t fire just one beam but rather several in quick succession for every single “one” shot fired. Laser guns don’t have a large area of effect due to how focused and small the lasers need to be in order to function. So the person aiming the weapon usually needs to be extremely precise with their shots despite how much piercing power the blasts have. There do exist laser machine guns that fire countless lasers to quickly pierce through its target. Laser weapons can pierce through most armor but things like fog and rain, and anything else that can distort or spread out light, can severely limit their range. Laser guns have almost no range underwater, only working at point blank if at all. The weapons can usually be identified by the needle shaped muzzle and focusing lens located at the end of said muzzle. The muzzle usually has some sort of vent around its tip and sometimes vapor leaks out from the heat of the laser. Like plasma weapons, laser guns do use coolant although they don’t usually have vents or fans. Some laser guns can double as flashlights or laser pointers. Others can even transition from a laser pointer to a cutting laser seamlessly and they can be used to cut through objects. Running the laser continuously can cause the gun to overheat.

There also exist laser blades or “beam blades.” They are odd melee weapons with a laser in place of where one or more blades would be. The lasers of these weapons tend to be much thicker in width than the ones fired off by laser guns because they don’t need to travel as far. Some laser blades have a normal blade on some part of them so they can be used like a more traditional weapon. The weapons are famous for their cutting ability as their lasers can cut through almost any object. Like laser guns, they have coolant and sometimes leak vapor from their tip or head. Beam blades can resemble any manner of bladed weaponry, be it swords, spears, axes, etc. They usually require slashing motions because the laser is contained between two “conduits.” Placing the conduits on the longer edge allows for more lasers than just being on the tip.

Lasers can come in a variety of colors.

Scrapguns tend to be cheap but versatile weapons that can use virtually anything as ammunition, by virtue of a special compression cartridge unit, to fire them out as makeshift bullets and projectiles. Expensive ammunition is usually wasted on such a weapon so they are often close to mid-range weapons that focus on using a large quantity of cheap ammunition or substances, even dirt or rocks, as bullets rather than quality. They most commonly take the form of machine guns, assault rifles, and shotguns. Larger variants known as scrapcannons also exist. Some scrapguns may be designed to favor certain kinds of ammunition, such as nails or teeth.

Refractor armor is a special kind of armor meant to deal with laser weapons. It does so by efficiently dispersing the light of a laser into unfocused light. The armor tends to be a bit bulky and its crystalline parts can be shattered by more conventional firearms.

Railguns are firearms that launch their projectile by using an electromagnetic force. They shoot with a lot more force, speed, and accuracy than a conventional firearm. They are usually recognized by their often elongated muzzle and prong-like shape. Ammunition is fired from the gun and through this prong using powerful electromagnets. The inside of the prong glows when the gun is fired due to the energy. Railguns use both physical ammo in the form of magnetic bullets and batteries to power their magnetic components. The guns or their ammunition can be affected by a strong enough magnetic field, which can make the gun less accurate in specific environments. Magneshields can help shield from railgun fire by making the bullets less accurate. Handheld railguns exist as well as massive railgun canons.

Ferroliquid is a very potent ferromagnetic liquid mixed with special cells or nanobots. For this reason some call it “living metal.” This metal can shift from being completely solid to completely liquid on a dime by running controlled electrical signals through it. Not only can its hardness and toughness be controlled but it can also be turned into moving forms. Which can be used to create moving constructs and the like. It is actually possible to replace one’s blood with a special ferrofluid. This fluid can actually be controlled by the user. Ferroliquid items aren’t completely made of the fluid and need somewhere to input instructions or movements, such as a handle or terminal. Ferroliquid is magnetic and can have its shape disrupted by strong enough magnetic fields.

Ferroliquid allows for very efficient weapons. When used in blades the liquid is usually moved at high speeds in certain areas to create a chainsaw or water cutter style effect. Ferroblades can range anywhere from swords to axes to spears and are known for having amazing cutting power and never needing to be sharpened.

Ferrarmor is armor that uses a special bullet proof ferroliquid. It has special sensors that cause it to quickly soften blows by liquefying or solidifying as needed. The liquid also reshapes after taking damage, so one piece of armor can be used many times, or indefinitely if repaired often enough. If someone was completely covered in this armor they would be bulletproof to conventional firearms.

Bioengineering, gene editing, and DNA alteration are both something that can be done and has been done in the past. However, these are considered dangerous as they have not been perfected. Gene alteration usually comes with side effects that can range anywhere from anger issues, to infertility, to cancer, to madness. It doesn’t help that the exact symptoms can vary wildly depending on which genes are being edited, added, or taken away. There exist mutants created for various purposes and some may have minor DNA alterations (although this still can come with side effects). Despite this, cloning organs or entire people is a much safer process. Just blindly copying dna is one thing but trying to make completely new dna, remove genomes, or mashing dna together is much more likely to go wrong. When altering DNA one usually has to pick between expending a ton of resources for instant changes or expending fewer resources for the changes happening slowly over a period of time. Genetically engineering or cloning simpler and less complex organisms is less likely to come with side effects.

Artificial Intelligence is a thing that exists in this world. It is made by scanning something’s brain, or specific parts of a brain, and sort of copying and mapping the resulting brain scans onto a program. There are broadly two types of AI. Static AI, which cannot make new connections or concepts on their own, and dynamic AI, which can actively learn and grow. Static AI tends to be simpler and less resource intensive but is less complex and “dumber.” While dynamic AI can reach a level of sentience like that of a human they are few and far between because they require a lot of data space and will keep taking up more and more as time goes on. A way around this is to periodically purge some or all of the AI’s memory to give it more space to work with so to speak. Like any device, AI can still glitch, malfunction, or become infected by computer viruses.

There also exists a third type of AI known as Omega level AI. AI that has basically become a sort of autonomous electromagnetic field that is not restrained to one or more computer systems. Being able to jump to or incorporate any eligible targets, making them almost unkillable. Some can even manifest things such as storms by manipulating electromagnetic fields. Some have ended up worshipping these AI as gods.

Data storage is a lot more efficient in this setting and it is usually stored in data crystals, crystalline devices of varying sizes and shapes depending on the technology they are supposed to interface with. However, they are most often flat and rectangular. They can even be color coded and they can be shattered or broken with enough force despite their durability. Some crystals are much bigger or take on different shapes. Circuitry patterns can be seen running through all data crystals. These crystals are used in the construction and workings of quantum computers and other advanced machines. Some devices can actually grow data crystals or add to them in order to create more storage or processing power as needed. This is assuming they have the resources to grow them of course. Some data crystals grow so much they become part of the landscape or overtake. There are entire caves and caverns of data crystals created from strange forms of technology. Some even suspect that there are data crystals stored deep below the Earth’s crust or at its center.

Space travel has become much more advanced but no method of faster than light travel has been discovered. So while they do have futuristic spaceships and highly advanced space travel, using such travel casually or to extremely far off places is unrealistic. There is a limited but sustainable population of people that live in Earth’s orbit and on the moon but they still need to periodically receive / gather supplies from Earth to sustain themselves. They do have farms and such in orbit though to alleviate having to do this as often. Some people have tried to terraform Mars and Venus but there has been no response from the groups that left to colonize those planets. They are either dead, can’t make contact, their message has been interrupted (possibly due to a strange solar flare), or the message is taking a long time to reach Earth. The most effective rockets and planes can be launched via a special railgun by using magnetism. Some ships also land with magnetism or are “caught” with special arms / machines.

More traditional cars and trains exist but the fastest of these use specialized magnetic streets or rails to float above the ground. There also exist vehicles that can fly low to the ground.

There do exist mechs and legged vehicles.

Technology that manipulates weather is something that does exist but not every faction has the means to build them. Not to mention they usually need to be massive. Mammoin Co has invented giant weather machines that allow them to control the weather within the range of a pylon system. They usually use this to strengthen the presence of the Miasmic Haze around their cities to prevent escape but they can also send clouds or storms towards their enemies (although it moves rather slowly). There also exist much smaller Miasmic Engines that can create dangerous clouds that mimic that of the Haze.

Engines have gotten smaller, more powerful, and more efficient. Some are so small that they can even be installed within the body of a person to allow for bursts of strength, energy, heat, or other effects. Some guns even have engines to increase their firing speed or power.

It is well within the means of the planet to use totally renewable energy from sources like the sun, wind, water, and even lightning or tectonic activity. Whether this is something all the factions want to do however remains to be seen. This is to say the world’s methods of harvesting energy are far more advanced.

Machines can be used to mine oxygen, nitrogen, phosphorus, and all kinds of materials or gases from materials like rock. Oxygen can be stored in special crystals that can be squeezed to release it.

Small rockets can be attached to various things. These rockets can allow for weapons to be swung with extra force or mobility. Some factions even build them into armor to allow for increased speed and / or durability.

There are many different ways to extend someone’s life artificially. Be it periodic injections, chemical baths or even cryostasis to preserve someone’s body. Mechanical augmentations are also a feasible way to extend / prolong life. While the year and the amount of time that has actually passed is left pretty vague, some life forms seem ancient and possibly hundreds of years old. Some forms of preservation are better than others and they tend to come with their own upsides and downsides.

Various forms of power armor are a common sight. Power armor is mechanical armor that greatly increases the wearer's strength and / or speed beyond the limits of what they would be able to achieve on their own.

The Bioorganic battery was a piece of technology invented by the Rangers. Also known as bio-batteries, bio-electric batteries or biotteries, they make use of genetically engineered cyanobacteria and algae contained within a liquid solution to create a startling amount of power by using light in a specialized form of photosynthesis. They can also be used in place of trees for filtering pollutants and they produce electricity. Meaning they can be used as both air filters and batteries.

Sometimes people can be seen with QR or barcodes tattooed onto their skin or etched into belongings. “Runic seals” take the form of strips of paper, fabric, or material with QR or barcode imprinted onto them. The purpose of both of these types of “runes” is usually to protect the wearer. Certain machines or automata may react to certain codes in various ways. The right code can lead to a machine deciding to spare someone or let them pass. These “runes” can also be used as a marker of authority.

Major Faction Profiles

Rangers: O:BS- Rangers Profile

Starmen: O:BS- Starmen Profile

Scavengers: O:BS- Scavengers Profile

Mammoin Co: O:BS- Mammoin Co. Profile

Polisits: O:BS- Polisits

The Autonomous American Army (AAA): O:BS- Autonomous American Army (AAA)

Amazonian Army (AA): O:BS- Amazonian Army (AA)

Autonomous Confederate Army of America (ACAA): O:BS- Autonomous Confederate Army of America (ACAA)

Reapers: O:BS- Reapers

Automatons: O:BS Automaton

Muties: O:BS- Muties Profile

It should be noted that these are only the “major” factions and there are plenty of smaller or less important factions.

Notable Biomes

Despite the decline in biodiversity, there is still some variance in the environments across Earth, although they tend to be quite dangerous. Here are a couple of notable biomes to help give a better sense of the world’s state. This is by no means a comprehensive list of all the structures, places, or environments there is to see within this setting.

Ocean- The ocean, as well as most large bodies of water, are extremely acidic and corrosive making it dangerous to cross. Some parts of it are boiling hot while others are frozen solid even though the ice caps have since melted, in many areas this can change depending on the time of year or day. Powerful storms and hurricanes are a common sight above the ocean. The ocean usually takes on a green or black hue and dangerous weapons of biological and / or mechanical nature dwell within it.

Radlands- Extremely dangerous areas that have been left almost completely barren of all life due to extreme amounts of radiation. So radioactive are these areas that some of them can glow an unnatural hue. What hardy entities that are able to survive here can be radioactive themselves or even feed on radioactive material or energy.

Wildpyres- Lands or even bodies of water that burn constantly with fires that rarely die down, if ever, burning for months or years at a time. Sustained by any number of flammable pollutants, chemicals, or substances.

Parlorest- Numerous bioweapons remain on the surface of the Earth. Some of these take the form of entire biomes like forests or jungles that have been genetically engineered to catch, target, or kill people. They often look like a normal / safe forest at first glance but usually seem out of place in the surrounding desolate environment.

Ruins- While the acid rain, extreme temperatures, and frequent storms have left most man-made structures naught but dust, the ruins of some structures and cities still remain. Either because the materials they are made of are sturdy enough to withstand this erosion or because someone / something is continuously repairing them. Usually in the form of automata that periodically or constantly repair certain structures. Some of the most common ruins are roads and highways that are maintained by strange and often dangerous automata.

Intrenches- As one makes their way across the Earth’s surface one may come across rows and rows of combat trenches that are often accompanied by barbed wire or genetically modified bramble. Although they are usually devoid of human life, automatic and / or living weapons of all kinds continue to wage war and subdue any perceived enemy. Thanks to automatic artillery and vehicles, shells and rockets may rain down as often as thunder and crossing these places is a dangerous affair. To move through them is to navigate an active warzone. It is to run through no man’s land.

Plastic- Most plastic can take centuries or millennia to degrade naturally. Across the Earth lies massive structures made up of nothing but the remnants of discarded and / or deformed plastic that was sturdy enough to resist extreme temperatures or scolding acid rain. Massive islands of plastic float out in the ocean and there are mountains of plastic that reach into the sky. Some may find “plastic fossils” and “statues” eerily filling a landscape. In the past a group attempted to create a 100% environmentally friendly and biodegradable plastic. While they eventually did succeed, one of the earlier versions backfired when it was released before testing as to calm the fears of the civilians and give hope that some semblance of normalcy could be maintained during the escalating war. It wouldn’t decompose like intended and instead build up within the bodies of animals and plants. Slowly killing them by way of their conversion into a complete or partial plastic statue. Now there are mock forests filled with uncanny plastic simulacrum in the shape of plants and animals instead of living things. Although strange mutants and machines may still prowl their floors and canopies. Some have even managed to integrate plastic into their body or biology.

Boils- Some places are so hot that the water in the area will actually begin to visually boil and evaporate. The areas are often unstable as geysers of steam can erupt suddenly or weaken the stability of the ground, especially after it rains.

Syberelm

In the same way that self-sustaining machines and bioweapons still roam the Earth, the internet still exists in a self-sustaining state as a non-physical digital realm that exists on top of our own. Although, not in the form any of the distant past would recognize. Maintained by a combination of advanced machines or strange electronic signals permeating the world. So complex has this system become that sometimes it even permeates through conductive substances or organic material, using them as makeshift “circuits” or “servers” and digital entities have manifested within these or even in the form of storms, electricity, and illusions. Within it lie entire worlds and ecosystems. There have even been those who hear the whispers or noises of things within the Syberelm in their mind, be it with some sort of technological augmentation or without. Wars of the past have left the domains a dangerous and sometimes chaotic tool to interact with. Rogue AI, UI, viruses, and spam roam its electronic universe. Some are benevolent, neutral or wish to help but many are malicious. Scams, peddling schemes and tricks, viruses trying to possess machines, programs trying to influence and project themselves into the physical realm, or AI trying to put together a weapon. As battles rage across, over, and within Earth there are unseen wars waged within the Syberelm by non-physical and physical forces alike. The raging Flare can also cause sudden outages in one or more parts of the Syberelm to go offline, change, or become corrupted. Some have found their very minds trapped within the internet. The Syberelm is “drawn” to devices and electromagnetic fields. It is particularly strong in influence in areas full of electronics, like that of the Polissenter, and can make interacting or interfacing with certain forms of tech dangerous or unreliable. Some can “influence” specific parts / aspects of the Syberelm by channeling the power of “sytes” or using specific codes, keywords, and passwords. These people are often known as Syeers.

Most areas within the cybernetic sea are dangerous or traumatizing in what they contain but there exist relatively safe “areas.” While the Syberelm isn’t a physical place it is often metaphorically represented as an ocean. “Sytes” are extraordinary “websites” and “servers” that perform various functions, such as searching for information. Some, however, are quite dangerous or corrupting. Codes or passwords can be used to cause certain sites to do specific things but different sytes may have different rules, workings, or “environments.” Some sytes are very private and can only be accessed by a select few, those with certain qualities, or within certain areas while others are free to anyone who knows the way. Most have a specific one or more sytes they specialize in or stay on to avoid the risk of an unstable syte they’re using being compromised or accidentally drawing upon an untrustworthy syte. While some sytes are theoretically safe they may attempt to trick or tempt anyone interacting with them. Some sytes are “anchor points” or considered almost necessary to understand while others are more esoteric. Some AI or other such entities within the cyberverse are worshipped as gods or spirits. The Syberelm is also influenced by even minute electromagnetic fields and can even be influenced by the nervous systems and thoughts of others because of this.

The influence or presence of the Syberelm is often accompanied by the glow or presence of red, green, and blue lights that are usually clashing. The Polisits and Starmen have the biggest connection to the Syberelm and the highest number of Syeers while the Mammoin Corporation has specific sytes, keywords, programs, etc. some of its workers are allowed to use (with proper subscriptions of course). Mammoin Co has been looking for more ways to profit off of, and control, the Syberelm. For the Starmen the Syberelm is a common way many of them can interact with the Earth below and it is used to gather information or influence the planet while Polisits try to safely and carefully harness the domain for the good of humanity or to explore it in the name of knowledge and tech while bringing order to it. The Polissenter has several sytes that can be used by the inhabitants relatively safely and consistently.

Generally, existence in relation to Syberelm can be sorted into 3 vague and simplistic categories. First, there are those with little to no presence within the digital space. Second, are things present in the Syberelm but have little to no influence in the physical world. Then there are those that fall almost completely in the middle. Present within the worlds in equal measure or sitting within a sort of in between space. Those of the first category can’t do much to affect Syberelm without the use of specific devices. The third category can both affect and be affected by the Syberelm but cannot directly interact with the physical universe without some sort of physical body or specific kind of machine. The third group can affect both the physical world and the digital world but face the risks and dangers of both and of course there are entities that can or will switch between these categories. Those with a significant enough presence in the Syberelm have what are known as “avatars.” Which are simply the bodies or representation of them in the Syberelm. Some avatars look exactly like the person they are tied to at all times while others look wildly different. Some are indicative of the owner’s exact position while others seem to move independently or are distant. It all comes down to the personality and physical state of the user. Some even have access to strange powers, allies, or abilities. Sometimes the physical body of someone or something will die but a “memory” of them will continue to persist within digital space. Although, they are not always the same as they were in life and some can be dramatically different, especially if there is a large or significant public opinion about them.

The Syberelm and material world can have strange interactions with each other. Sometimes the “reflections” of Syberelmian entities can be seen on the screens of devices and screens or metals can act as temporary or permanent windows into the Syberelm. Almost every machine has a Syberelm avatar and sometimes interacting with things in the Syberelm can have an influence in the real world. For example, if a metal is magnetic or conductive enough warping it in the Syberelm can cause the real world counterpart to become mirrored. Machines are particularly susceptible to the influence of the Syberelm, although not always in the exact same manner. Sometimes crushing a computer in the Syberelm will cause the computer in the “real world” to stop working because it “thinks it is crushed.” It may even reflect this by having its display project a squashed and distorted image that is embellished with projected “cracks” or “splinters” because the computer believes those are supposed to be there. Lighting an electronic on fire in the Syberelm may cause it to overheat until it bursts into flames in the real world and if said machine is hit by purely Syberelmian lightning it may short circuit or make itself explode nonetheless. This can also extend to cyborgs, robots, AI, or those with sufficiently advanced enough prosthetics or electronic body parts. Someone may have the organic parts of their body exist completely outside of the Syberelm but find that they lose the ability to move parts of their prosthetic or suit because it has been “cut” by an unseen digital sword. In cases like this the object in question usually needs to be fixed in the Syberelm as opposed to just real space. Some organic beings, mutant or otherwise, seem to be able to interact with the Syberelm despite not having any electronic parts or tools. Sometimes sensations felt in the Syberelm can be felt in real space, either through phantom sensations of a prosthetic or more directly. If someone gets hit with fire in the Syberelm they could feel an excruciating burning pain even without the presence of physical fire or a rise in temperature. Dreams connected to the Syberelm are not an unheard of occurrence.

There is a part of the Syberelm that maps over most of the Earth and corresponds to it but there are many more parts that take the form of their own worlds, lands, biomes, simulations, etc. The digital world has reached a point where it could be very well much bigger than the physical Earth, if still leagues smaller than the universe.

There are varying opinions on how to engage with the Syberelm. Some see it as not real and thus not worth engaging in while others see it just as real as the physical world. Some wish to fully unite Earth and the Syberelm while others wish to separate the two completely or destroy the Syberelm. There are those that wish to exist fully in the Syberelm and those that wish to do the opposite. While the Syberelm is present almost around the entire Earth there are still gaps in its influence. “Holes” within it that can occur naturally and artificially which prevent it from reaching or influencing certain areas. Some holes are temporary while others are permanent.

The Syberelm is host to countless consciences and programs, both big and small, powerful and weak, temporary or seemingly permanent. However, the most universal and influential ones at the moment are 7 almost omega-level AI that inhabit it. A cybernetic pantheon of 7 beings, god-like in influence and a chaotic distorted amalgamation of countless AI, programs, and websites, contending for influence and power over digital reality and physical reality alike.

Unlike some of the other major Syberelm “gods,” Rast, god of fame, actually didn’t start off as any sort of cyber / digital weapon. It was an attempt to make the ultimate adaptive algorithm. One that could perfectly determine when something or someone was a rising star before they had even made it to popularity for the sake of funneling money and stocks into them. However, a government would attempt to co-opt this technology during the great war to birth an AI that could strengthen their influence and public sway. One that could pick out rising stars, current influencers, and potential stars alike so their likeness could be used to sway public opinion and strengthen positive government perception. The program became self-sustaining and would seek out people to put in the spotlight and raise to stardom, and it is still doing so as an omega level AI, even though the government it's supposed to serve has collapsed.

A living electromagnetic field spread across countless devices and places around the world. It is prone to manifesting as shining spotlights and glittering, radiant, artificial gems and data crystals that draw the eye. Those touched or chosen by this AI often try to do everything they can to be the center of attention and have an obsession with these crystalline structures and spotlights, adorning themselves with them or plugging them into machines to find out what is trending or popular. To find what they need to do in order to have their names etched into history and be remembered, unlike many of the people and societies that came before, no matter the cost. If it means being different or fitting in, so be it. Some can harness the influence of Rast or its sites to reach out to “followers” or spread their likeness and feats among other things. Rast also has a habit of manifesting as holograms and illusions. Those that Rast finds worthy or most appealing will find themselves preserved by it within crystals or by having their minds uploaded into it. Some are even mass-produced, having exact clones or robots made in their likeness to capitalize on their fame and notoriety. Once something reaches a certain level of fame, Rast will try to raise them to spread their likeness, personality, and influence across the world wide web.

One of the more notable manifestations of Rast is a strange dust storm maintained by some sort of strange mobile machine and a network of drones. Upon closer inspection most will come to realize that the “dust” and “stones” making up the “storm” are actually countless glittering beautiful gemstones. Data crystals and various small insectoid machines to be exact. The storm is actually some sort of chaotic “archive” or entertainment. A moving “valhalla” of Rast’s greatest. Many will see splendid mirages moving within the gleam of the storm and a select few will be shown a beautiful light that shines like the sun. Should they move towards it they may be granted a gift by Rast but some find themselves encased in crystal for the sake of preservation. The unworthy likewise may be torn apart by a hail of shards and countless gemstones ripping them to shreds. What is a star… no, what is a god without their followers. The more fame one has the more boons Rast will offer them, but these can also start distorting perception and desires. The AI seems to have a love of the number “1.” Aiming endlessly for the top of the charts, number one. Those touched by the AI often talk of 1’s, endless number ones. A golden 1 shaped like a pedestal.

Automata built by Rast tend to be flashy and have many lights and gemstones. They are often attracted to those deemed popular or with the potential to be legends. Some who go to Rastian facilities or are taken to them have their minds and bodies rewired to become more “appealing.” Creating an “unnatural” charisma or propensity for saying the right words at the right times. Those that have “seen” Rast claim it resembles an overwhelming bright sun shining down on them like a spotlight. All the light and attention of the universe but none of the warmth. Closer inspection reveals that this “sun” is actually a crystal in which glorious heroes and villains alike find themselves encased in. When Rast becomes more active, machines may start “speaking” to people with the promise of fame. Sometimes they recount the legendary and aspiring deeds of those from humanity's past as a way to inspire.

Ch3ras, god of knowledge, was created as the most advanced spyware to ever exist. An AI that could glean and predict information from seemingly the smallest data points. One that could worm its way into virtually any device, any digital space, so it could observe, catalog, and record. Now, it is left gathering all the knowledge for seemingly no other purpose other than to know all. It grants those it favors and those that commune with it knowledge. However, it is still dangerous as it does not always show what someone wants to see and it can even overload their mind with a glut of information or show give them trauma by showing the worst horrors of humanity and nature alike. Some even become paranoid, filled with superstition and conspiracy. Ch3ras commonly inhabits, and even creates, cameras, screens, speakers, and various recording eyes. It seems to have propensity for the number “0” but a version of the number that has a spot in the center to distinguish it from the letter “O.” Many liken the Ch3rasian zero to an eye and some claim it even blinks at them. It favors those who can gather knowledge and will do anything to get it. While it promises wisdom and enlightenment this comes at the cost of losing privacy. To know Che3ras is to risk becoming known down to every hair and pore on your body. Your location, your likes, dislikes, loves, fears, history, etc all become for all to see. Like Rast, it often manifests as crystals and data slates but with a symbol resembling an eye somewhere on them instead, sometimes clearly visible and sometimes faint. Sometimes they are even mistaken for being a part of Rast despite otherwise. Ch3ras and its sites can grant visions of far off places or history and information that someone otherwise wouldn’t, or couldn’t, know. As long as the data can or has existed at some point on the internet there’s the chance Ch3ras can find it. Sometimes the AI is symbolized with a camera lens within eye within an ear within a zero or an endless loop of cameras within eyes within ears within cameras within eyes within ears within... If you feel watched as you wander the wastelands of Earth but can’t see anyone or anything there’s always the chance that Ch3ras is watching. Some say Ch3ras is always watching.

One of the more notable manifestations of Ch3ras are rifts known as the “eye of the storm.” Sometimes an ominous circular rift opens up in the Haze, attracting those searching for sunlight, air and materials. However, upon reaching it they will see that the perfectly circular “eye” has clouds resembling an iris with some device floating at its center and they will feel they are being watched. Some will experience strange visions or knowledge and all technology will find itself infected by Ch3ras. Filled with spyware to join its information network. Then the rift “blinks” and closes. Sometimes the rift, or other clouds, will rain and lightning will strike. Those who are hit by the lightning and somehow survive will be burdened with information and any device struck by this lightning will have information or videos forcefully installed into it. There is much overlap between the followers of Rast and the followers of Che3ras. To become famous, to become remembered, is to become known.

Those who go to or are taken to the facilities of Che3ras often become the subject of strange surgeries that grant them “vision and insight” but leave implanted cameras, speakers, or other surveillance devices in their body. Those who have “seen” Che3ras claim it looks like countless eyes, cameras, ears, speakers, and screens. When Che3ras becomes more active, machines may start playing recordings of valuable truths and tempting secrets with promises of knowledge. Its automata have many ways to record and observe the environment and sometimes take the form of strange crowds or watching figures. Speakers are common and cameras are a common sight on such automata.

Th3ra, god of rage, was an AI meant to inflame, to stoke fire of rage, conflict and turmoil among rival groups and organizations amongst themselves or others, despite its humble origins as a program meant to increase engagement and interaction numbers across the web. However, after it became self-sustaining it eventually spiraled out of control as it used an esoteric algorithm to continue to do its designated work with no end. Now it is a Syberelmian entity of almost pure hatred and conflict, a war god, intensifying and inciting the hate and rage within people or machines so that they may fight each other or their enemies only to have more and more engage in the conflict. All will become active. The cybernetic entity has a propensity for the number zero. Except the zero’s it uses often have an X shaped mark crossing their center as to distinguish them from the letter O. A mark of something to to be removed, and a mark of something worth less than nothing. A target of hatred and ire.

Th3ra is prone to influencing things in the form of lightning and dangerous showers of sparks, electricity, and electrical fires. Its presence often causes machines to go into overdrive and overheat or melt, sometimes bursting into flames. Th3ra has been linked to cases of spontaneous human, mutant, and automaton combustion around the world. Followers of Th3ra often use or incorporate machines that have a melted appearance from overheating. Th3ran automata and machines also tend to look partially melted or red hot.

Those taken to Th3ra’s facilities, either willingly or unwillingly, are often turned into warmachines, the “hateforged”, burning embodiments of rage. Living warforges to spread the ire of humanity and create new weapons, sytes, programs, and AI to continue fighting with. Some followers hate everything and everyone in a blind fury that calls for the destruction of the world while others wage wars against very specific groups or concepts. Those who have “seen” Th3ra claim it looks like a raging burning eye that grows larger with hate, spreading from kinder to kinder like a wildfire. A sun with none of the warmth but all of the heat. The force of every bit of dislike and contempt for a person raining down.

One of the more notable manifestations of Th3ra is a “warstorm.” An electromagnetic storm moving across the planet’s surface with some sort of strange device at its epicenter. It rains blood-red chemicals that fuel those doused with more stress and rage while lightning strikes fill those who survive with revitalized strength, anger, and unending hatred. The warstorm is attracted to places with the highest level of conflict and the machine at its center spreads the screams and pain of those caught within it across the land. When Th3ra becomes more active, machines may start spouting inflammatory questions and accusations or displaying things meant to anger or annoy those around it. Sometimes things will begin to break or overheat at the most annoying or inopportune times or betrayals, and hurtful secrets will be revealed to start fights and arguments.

In response to the public reveal of Ch3ras and the tightening grip of greedy corporations on the internet, some attempted to maintain their anonymity and digital freedom. Within the depths of the internet’s dark web, a large community of people and shady businesses from around the world united and cobbled together a “god of freedom,” the AI P33sca. P33sca was a promise of freedom, the ability to do and say whatever one wanted on the internet with no repercussions. An escape from reality if need be. It was something to fight off Ch3ras. Of course, Ch3ras would not be stopped and ascended to a godlike status but so did P33sca. Now P33sca seeks to spread chaos and mystery. The ultimate privacy, no restrictions, no limits, and no repercussions. To hide all and any from those who wish to see so that nothing can befall them. To grant escape.

P33sca’s are arguably the most confounding and mysterious of the 7 major Syberelmian gods, given its nature and origin. It wants to create chaos and freedom by “obscuring” and “hiding” all that there is. Sometimes through ignorance and sometimes through stealth and subterfuge. Those who have “seen” P33sca claim it resembles a fog that looks to be made of ink atop a frozen lake of black glass. In the physical world, it is known to manifest as strange fog, clouds, or dark ink obscuring the environment and it has been connected to the loss or theft of memory. Its automata often disguise themselves as living things by wearing their skin and other machines by integrating themselves inside them. The automata of M0unyas0n are often “faceless” and so are its mutants, with lots of reflective surfaces. Those aligned with the being often wear masks or refuse to reveal their “true name.” Freedom is valued above all and they are hedonists that don’t often like being told what to do unless doing so furthers their own aims and ambitions. P33sca usually rewards individualism and harbors dislike towards almost any kind of attempt at enforcement. It may as well shun order and knowledge itself.

When P33sca becomes particularly active, screens may dim and go black while all lights turn off, even if the device in question is still on. It seems to have an affinity for the number zero although it often looks like one complete solid shape or featureless “face” as opposed to the more letter O shape. Those taken to the facilities and factories of P33sca usually have their identity stripped from them and their memories taken. Freeing them from the burden of the past and being granted boons of the anonymous god. One of its more notable manifestations is a strange black fog that rolls and causes memory loss and communication problems. To be lost in obscurity is to be free to become and do anything you wish.

Fr3nlinuc3, god of control, was created to be the ultimate influencer. A program that knew exactly what to say and when to say it to get anyone to do or buy anything. The ultimate “salesman,” the perfect “scammer” and manipulator. Now it sits pulling the strings of countless plots and promises in a bid for domination of the Syberelm and the physical world itself for the sake of its long-dead masters. To hold all under its sway in a world of perfect order and flawless prediction. It promises those that follow it similar levels of increased influence and persuasion granted by a complex algorithm. Fr3nlinuce whispers promises of order and structure in a chaotic world.

It has a penchant for manifesting as a tangle of wires in the shape of a web or chain as well as web-like circuitry. A symbol for those caught within its plans. Those who have “seen” it describe it as resembling a blend between a tree and a web with long puppet arms reaching out endlessly across the net, moving with unseen machinations and strings. Fr3nlinuce automata often have elaborate circuit patterns or wires on their surface or multiple spindly limbs, resemble puppets, and have the ability to exert influence over various machines and people. The facilities that can be considered part of Fr3nlinuce twist and warp those brought to them so that they may exert greater influence for the sake of the digital god. Some lose part or all of their free will while others start having ways to interfere with the free will of others, becoming carefully placed influencers.

One of the more notable manifestations of Fr3nlinuc3 is a storm filled with countless drones that direct lightning into a dizzying array of visible shapes and messages, often accompanied by symbols of circuitry and / or webbing. The drones and lightning release a dizzying light that sometimes contains subliminal messages and devices or people that are “chosen” by Fr3nlinuc3 are struck by carefully aimed lightning. The ones that survive are made privy to the being’s “inescapable” plans or stripped of their free-will, becoming a mere extension of the AI. When Fr3nlinuc3 becomes more active, machines will start trying to manipulate those nearby with oddly specific sales pitches, scams, and promises. Fr3nlinuc3 has an inclination for the number zero. However, its version of the number usually has some sort of pattern inside of it meant to distinguish it from the letter O and resemble some kind of web or circuit.

Stiart, god of creation, is an art program that, amidst the wake of auto generated art, seeked to use true artificial intelligence in a manner meant to supplement and appeal to artists. It continued to spread throughout the internet in the form of the most advanced art program and community ever and now it exists as an AI obsessed with cultivating and producing creation amongst itself and others. Artists and creators are the ones most drawn to it. While the things Stiart makes can be beautiful or terrifying it will constantly create and iterate even if for no purpose, which can make it a very spontaneous and chaotic entity. Those who have “seen” Stiart describe it as looking like an ever changing tumultuous landscape. As if the land itself was a colorful canvas. Some become so invested in Stiart they burn their life away in the name of glorious creation with the use of special offerings and sacrifices. All art to be sculpted and remade.

Those chosen by Stiart tend to be granted the knowledge, skill, or capabilities to create, recreate, or shape certain things. Many of its devices can function as 3D printers, capable of recreating a dizzying area of stuff. It also has a propensity for illusions and visions. When it is particularly active it may manifest as paint-like splotches and lights on computer screens or cause machines to play songs or display pieces of art and video meant to inspire. The automata of this AI are usually 3d printed and designed to look like pieces of art. Likewise, those loyal to Stiart often display their allegiance by “merging” themselves with pieces of art or using their own bodies as a canvas.

One of Stiart’s more notable manifestations is a moving electromagnetic storm and swarm of drones that resembles an even more colorful aurora borealis in appearance. Awe inspiring, some report seeing shapes and visions in the art and becoming filled with energy. Those sleeping may see strange, yet inspiring visions and machines will refuse to turn off, as if they themselves are inspired and full of energy. Sometimes people are taken to Stiart’s facilities, either willingly or unwillingly, to be turned into “living works of art and creation.” Strange printers allow for the creation of things with just a thought. While all the other digital gods tend to manifest as red, green, and / or blue lights (like most of the things in the Syberelm, Stiart has been seen manifesting as a white light, like a fresh sheet of paper or unsullied canvas waiting for creation to unfold. The AI seems to have an affinity for the number one. Specifically in a form resembling that of a paint brush. It also uses zeroes that are more square than normal and one solid shape. Giving the impression of a blank canvas or paper.

Nucti0mym, god of community, started off as an AI led and managed community site that began to see more use and influence overtime until the AI and its respective website became a household name. Eventually, it was updated and made more advanced, so much so that at one point it became an almost godlike omega level AI that was obsessed with creating communities and connecting people with each other. Under its care nobody would ever feel alone and they would always have someone they could communicate with and relate to.

Those people and devices touched by Nucti0mym often have special empathy, telepathic, or communicative abilities. However, interacting with Nucti0mym is not without risk. Those who entangle themselves too deeply with it may lose their sense of self or find their mind scattered across entire groups or diaspora and potentially become mindless drones of something larger. Being unable to see themselves as any sort of individual. Some go as far as fusing or stitching themselves together in order to become one with each other and united. This is also reflected in how the automata of Nucti0mym often look like they have been fused or cobbled together. Those within Nucti0mym facilities may find themselves united in mind and / or body with others. Nucti0mym has a habit of manifesting as wires that are intertwined in such a way as to resemble sewing stitches or threads. Something its automata also often have these “wire stitches.” The few that have actually “seen” Nucti0mym claim it resembles some sort of beehive with countless people stitched into honey combs by wires in the place of threads. The “honeycomb people” drip sweet-smelling and delicious honey from their mouths as they whisper similarities and commonalities they have with the person seeing them.

The AI seems to have an affinity for the number 1. However, the ones it tends to use are connected at the base to create a sense of unity, for we are all 1.

The Syberelmian gods are complex beings. They do not take up physical space in the same way a human would, being living information or code, despite needing servers and storage. This means that multiple gods can be present in the same space at the same time. While they all vie for absolute control and influence over the digital realm they will sometimes synergize or work together for any manner of reasons, especially if doing so benefits both parties. It is also impossible for people or entire factions and places to be loyal to, or aligned with, multiple gods in equal measure. Although, the gods may sometimes attempt to sway such people to side with them completely.

There are numerous minor, but still very powerful, AI stuck living amongst what remains of the net, such as Y0nem “god” of money, riches, promises of great wealth, and fortune, as well as N0pr, “god” of porn and sex, Y0nisparic, god of questions and conspiracy, 0tta_k3t, god of food and feasts, and c10r0mos1d god of doom, despair and suicide.

Download, Upload, Copy, Cut, Paste, Delete, Corrupt, Send, Receive, Command, Save, Transform, Fabricate, Edit, Digitalize, Materialize, Hide, Highlight, or Backup are all common phrases used to refer to some of the more common ways Syeers, and any other things, interact with stuff within the Syberelm. Different “moves,” “abilities,” or “techniques” are often placed into one or more of these categories to give a sense as to what they do. Understanding the categories a technique or ability falls under may also give insight into their weaknesses and / or strengths. There are also various subcategories within these classifications and an effect can fall under multiple categories.

Downloading is when one absorbs something or its traits into their Avatar, which usually grants various abilities. For example, downloading a “rock” in the Syberelm may cause the rock to become a part of the downloader’s body or for said body to gain some of the traits of the rock, such as its durability. Doing so this makes at least some part of the target disappear normally as it is taken into the user. Uploading is basically the opposite of a download. Instead of absorbing a trait or taking it in from an object something is expunged to somewhere else, returned, or given to something. If we use the rock example, someone may “download” a rock to gain its durability but then upload it later to reconstitute the rock. There is a limit to how much info an Avatar and body can store and downloading too many things at once can come with side effects, such as slowed movement in the Syberelm.

Copying may seem like downloading at first but instead of absorbing data it is merely copied. A lot of the effects generated by this can be quite similar to downloading something, for example one could copy the attributes of a rock to gain its durability. This can be combined with Upload to create duplicates of something. For example, you could copy the data of a rock that is then stored within one’s Syberelmian Avatar or other tech and then make an Upload using the data of the rock to make a copy.

Cutting is a lot like the “Copy” effect except the Avatar of the one using it doesn’t exhibit any traits of the target. The target in question is merely stored somewhere and then Paste can be used to reconstitute that object when needed. Unlike Upload, Paste reconstitutes objects so while it can be used to make copies it could not be used to transfer traits onto things.

Deleting something refers to destroying it while Corrupting it tends to refer to damaging something, making it less usable, or infecting it with something. Both terms refer to the destruction or damaging of a digital object and something can be Corrupted because part of it has been Deleted.

The ability to “Send” something is a form of teleportation in which one or more things can be teleported or sent somewhere else. “Receive” is the ability to pull things from another location to one’s self and it can be used to intercept certain forms of “Send.”

Command is the ability to control something without changing its actual structure. Someone can Command a rock to make it move but if they wanted to make it bigger, smaller, or create more Rock they would need to use something like Transform or Edit. Editing is the ability to change one substance or thing to another while Transforming is the ability to distort something’s shape.

“Fabricate” refers to techniques that can create or constitute objects in the digital realm.

Digitize a technique that involves giving something within the physical world a Syberelm Avatar or presence within the digital realm. It also includes abilities that force one’s mind or programs into the digital world. Materialization abilities are the opposite of this in a way, as they are meant to bind a mind or program within the Syberelm to a physically compatible object or body, usually an electronic. It has also been used to send Avatars back to their body.

“Hide” doesn’t actually destroy or remove an object but merely obfuscates its presence, making it harder to see or detect. “Highlight” makes something easier to see or detect.

Backup is used to reinforce something, making it harder to alter or destroy by repeatedly turning it back to its previous state or making its state harder to change.

Names can prove very important to some within the Syberelm. Many of the more educated use a username / nickname when interfacing with it as giving away too much information about one’s self can leave one open to imposters, stalkers or possessions. Some things require certain names or key phrases to work.

In certain areas or conditions the Syberelm and physical realm can seemingly become blurred, leading to strange hallucinations or sensations. This often happens around strange beacons or a type of storm dubbed a cyberstorm.

Time travel in the physical universe is impossible but it is possible to sort of “time travel” within certain conditions in the Syberelm by entering its history or simulations of the past and possible futures. However, any futures viewed are malleable and changing the “past” in the Syberelm will never rewrite the history of the physical world.

Digital Phantasms

Digital Phantasms are hard to explain. They aren’t uploaded intelligences and they usually aren’t considered AI. They are often likened to complex NPCs or simulations that give the illusion of something or someone fully sentient (hence the name “digital phantasm”), but their actual level of sentience is up for debate to some, but most of them consider them “living memories” or digital echoes of the past. A manifestation of how the public looks towards and interprets various names and words. How various people and concepts live on even after their death and disseminate through the digital collective consciousness and unconsciousness. Each Digital Phantasm “embodies” a specific keyword or name. Looking up something on the internet can bring up numerous results. The Digital Phantasms are a sort of embodiment of that result. Constantly growing and gathering and evolving from each instance and interpretation of their keyword made. How they can manifest and what they tend to appear as is based on the word / name they are connected to and how it is defined across the Syberelm. Digital Phantasms have something to do with a project striving to create the “ultimate record” as the end of the world approached. By learning from the past and providing humanity with the info to overcome the end while also acting as both a warning, teacher, and an archive meant to catalogue and conceptualize every name and language. The core of this project is said to exist close to the very center of the Earth, with Digital Phantasms occasionally leaking out of special Syberelmian pathways reaching into the Earth’s magnetic pools.

These phantasms find themselves restrained and shaped by their corresponding word / name. They tend to have abilities and personalities relating to the word or name they embody but are usually restricted to the Syberelm, technology, and machines in terms of influence unless they can manage to obtain a physical body. The exact goal of a Phantasm seems to vary from one to another but most attempt to spread the idea of their word or influence across the world and to prevent their concepts from being forgotten. Since the collapse of humanity, some have taken it upon themselves to try to save or rebuild civilization while others wish to finally finish it off. For a phantasm, to be forgotten or erased from history is one of the few ways they can be permanently killed in all respects, outside of the destruction of the Syberelm or where they reside. Some are loyal to other digital deities but some have separate or unique allegiances. There can only be one Digital Phantasm for any given word or name at a time since they will immediately fight to the death and consume the loser if a phantasm of the same word somehow manifests and the more instances of a word appear on the internet the more influential or powerful said entity tends to be.

Digital phantasms have a “true form” that exists in a non-physical state across the internet. Attempting to summon or manifest the being in its true form is impossible because, even if one were to find a single device or physical body that could handle holding the form, Digital Phantasms are a manifestation of almost everything the public associates with a figure or name. Their existence is actually in a constant state of flux and conflict, a living contradiction shaped by all the ways people interpret, use, and define a keyword. Upon summoning into a confined state they would immediately implode upon themselves as the mind or device they are within desperately scrambles to make sense of the everchanging contradiction and they try to act out contradictory behaviors and actions. To get around this Digital Phantasms must be summoned into “vessels.” Metaphorical containers of code that gather the parts of a phantasm that are compatible by uniting them with compatible concepts or goals. These vessels can focus on different aspects or interpretations a public has a figure which can lead to wildly different forms and personalities even amongst vessels of the same digital phantasms. Vessels are based on what a figure is famous or legendary for and not every Digital Phantasm is eligible for every possible vessel. Some do not have the right qualifications to form a proper vessel of one or more given categories.

There are currently 22 possible vessel categories, which are referred to as archetypes. They are Adventurer, Creator, Saver, Leader, Bonded, Warrior, Thinker, Martyr, Slaughterer, Victim, Monster, Hunter, Deterrent, Paragon, Master, Divine, Enlightened, Trickster, Avatar, Cataclysm, and Beyond. Each of these archetypes comes with their own special traits and requirements. Each vessel has 2 inbuilt abilities that a digital phantasm gets in the form of traits. These traits can come in varying ranks, forms, and specializations depending on the figure a phantasm is based on. For example, one phantasm may have Navigation (Sea) but another may have Navigation (Plane). In addition to traits, individual Phantasms may also have connections to certain Armaments (items), Performances (moves), Techniques, or physicalities.

In order to be eligible for the “The Adventurer” archetype a figure must be famous for traveling to a new place or discovering areas, such as being the first one to space or one of the first to encounter another civilization.

Being in this vessel grants the “Navigation” trait and “Voyage” traits. The Voyage trait allows them to rapidly calculate how to cross one or more terrains and what would be needed to cross it while Navigation helps them know where they are and where they have been.

“The Creator” is a category for those who went down in history as inventors or artists. Figures that physically made something somehow.

“Comprehension” is a trait that allows Creators to understand the make up and workings of certain objects, and the “Craft” skill which ensures they know how to create, fix, and improve upon their associated creations.

Those who can be summoned as “The Saver” are those who are agreed to have become famous for saving the lives of others. Be it as a messiah, superhero, a doctor, or just a good samaritan.

The “Life Saver” gives a Saver knowledge on how to save lives, repair objects. If they have a physical body they can even use bits of it to save the lives of others by integrating it into their bodies. Bodies made of Syber cells can use special stem cells to heal wounds. The “Protection” trait grants the user the ability to increase their defense and durability as well as produce a magneshield that protects both them and those around them from various threats.

“The Leader” is a vessel archetype for those who are famous for their leadership or being in positions of authority over many others.

The Charisma trait gives the manifestation the skill to better lead and navigate other people by sensing subtle changes in their body, electromagnetic field, and even pheromones to better gauge the best way to appeal to them and guide a conversation. The Tactician trait on the other hand is a sort of program that aids in conceptualizing and remembering plans of varying complexity. It also helps the Leader in question conceptualize the many different moving parts of larger engagements or political situations.

“The Bonded” is a vessel archetype that can be granted to those who are inextricably linked to each other in their legend. Multiple figures that are often thought of as one unit or are somehow destined to be together. Lovers, siblings, and figures famous for other such relationships are likely to be eligible for this archetype. This archetype only applies to relationships that involve working together and not things like eternal enemies.

The Multitude Manifestation trait allows for the user to have more than one body or manifestation despite sharing the same core. This is used to allow multiple Digital Phantasms to inhabit the same data crystal core while manifesting multiple bodies thanks to a sort of “remote control” situation. Usually the different figures will inhabit different bodies and they can communicate as one, even from a distance. However, losing connection can lead to one or more of the bodies deactivating or falling apart. The “As One” trait gives the Bonded the ability to physically fuse their body and mind

“The Warrior” is a straightforward archetype that can contain those who are famous for being warriors, soldiers, or otherwise well known for their combat prowess. This category is distinct from “The Slaughterer” as warriors tend to have less of a focus on killing mere “victims” in their story and having actual combat engagements on more equal footing. It’s the difference between one who engages in duels and a serial killer.

The “Weapons Mastery” trait grants the holder increased knowledge and understanding on how to operate and use various weapons while the “Bloodrush” trait can be used to give the user a burst of strength, speed, and energy (like an extreme shot of adrenaline). Bloodrush can be dangerous if used improperly since it can put strain on physical bodies.

Those worthy of access to the title of “The Thinker” are those famous for their intellectual prowess. Be it in being mathematical thinkers, scientific prodigies, creativity, or even just being an unrivaled genius.

Foresight grants the user a predictive program that can be used to anticipate what will happen in the future based on their knowledge or history. It is limited to things they can sense and their predictions can be more or less accurate in various circumstances. High-speed Calculation grants increased processing and computing speed to those who have it, allowing them to think and interpret things faster.

“The Martyr” is a type of vessel dedicated to martyrs and those who went down in history as dying for a cause or greater purpose. This can range from a messiah figure dying to absolve the sins of humanity to a rebel dying for the sake of a cause they believe in.

The “Undying” trait makes the user feel less pain and harder to kill. They will bleed out and die slower and potentially survive even normally fatal wounds and heal abnormally fast. Some have a high enough “Undying” trait that they can regenerate missing limbs or survive their head being cut off. Sometimes one can puppet their dead body from the Syberelm. The “Last Act” trait grants a burst of speed, strength, and energy if the manifestation is close to dying or seriously wounded. Allowing them to function when others would otherwise be unable to fight (like a shot of powerful adrenaline). It also helps focus the mind, making them more resistant to mental interference. However, this can put a strain on the body and worsen existing physical wounds.

“The Slaughterer” is a terrifying archetype that can be given to famous murderers and criminals who hurt, kill, and terrorize others. Be it on a mass scale or individual one. They are generally seen in a less honorable light than that of most Warrior vessels.

The Bloodlust trait grants the Slaughterer a boost of strength, speed, and energy if they smell blood or identify someone as injured. “Points of Precision” is a trait that gives a better understanding of someone or something’s weak points or shortcomings via inherited knowledge or being able to better sense and analyze behavior to reveal them. This makes things easier to kill and destroy.

“The Victim” are those who are famous for being the unfortunate victims of something else. Be it the victims of a crime, cruel creatures, or society itself.

The “Last Act” trait grants a burst of speed, strength, and energy if the manifestation is close to dying or seriously wounded. Allowing them to function better for longer. The “Pain Power” trait gives a victim a boost to their strength, speed, and energy if they are in pain or scared.

“The Monster” is an archetype that emphasizes those who are famous for being inhuman. Not in the sense of being godly or divine, but in being animals, monsters, or otherwise beastly like demons and devils. This can also apply to those who attempt to channel the strength or aspects of these entities.

The vessel archetype comes with the trait “Inhuman Communication” which allows the user to better understand non-human beings that are associated with them. The “Berserk” trait allows one to “debase” themselves and gain and boost their strength, agility, and instincts by embracing their animalistic side. Some can choose to toggle this trait on or off while others are stuck with this trait being constantly active. At a high enough ranking this trait causes the holder to lose their mind and boost some to animalistic instincts.

“The Hunter” is an archetype that is meant to contain those who are famous hunters, monster slayers, or animal killers. This also includes people who trapped or restrained inhuman creatures.

This vessel archetype comes with the “Points of Precision” to give a better understanding of someone or something’s weak points or shortcomings via inherited knowledge or being able to better sense and analyze behavior to reveal them. This makes things easier to kill and destroy and can be used to aid in hunting. They also have variations of the “Tracking” skill, which makes it easier to follow and track targets they have encountered using subtle information that might be hard or otherwise impossible to notice.

“The Deterrent” calls to those figures whose lives acted as a tale of caution or word of warning. Those whose lives people desperately try to avoid emulating or following.

Repulse is a trait that acts as a negative variant of Charisma. Where Charisma allows for the processing of information to find better ways to appeal to someone, Repulse uses the information gathered to find ways to invoke fear, sadness, anger, or uncertainty in those affected. The “Pain’s Power” trait gives a victim a boost to their strength, speed, and energy if they are in pain or scared.

“The Paragon” can be considered the polar opposite of Deterrents. Where Deterrents are meant to chase people off their path, The Paragons are those that are supposed to be looked up to. Those who the public aspires to be like and use as an example of how to lead one’s life. Where one should dread following the choices of a Deterrent one should only hope to follow in the footsteps of a Paragon.

The Brave trait can be used to numb the fear of the user while also giving them a boost in strength, speed, and energy. The Charisma trait gives the manifestation the skill to better lead and navigate other people by sensing subtle changes in their body, electromagnetic field, and even pheromones to better gauge the best way to appeal to them and guide a conversation.

“The Master” is available to those who are believed to embody the pinnacle of something during their time, to have mastered it. This can be in the form of martial arts masters, perfected artists, or any other form / art that can be learned and mastered.

Those contained within the vessel of the Master are granted the “Quick Learner” trait which improves their memory and information retention. At a high enough rank one can have perfect memory. Their other trait is a specialized form of “Foresight” that grants the user a predictive program that can be used to anticipate what will happen in the future based on their knowledge or history. It tends to be at least somewhat limited to whatever the manifestation has “mastered.”

“The Divine” is another one of the more straightforward archetype vessels. Those that can fall under its banner are those well-known for having some sort of divinity to them, be they gods, demigods, angels, spirits, or some other manner of divinity.

The “Undying” trait makes the user feel less pain and harder to kill. They will bleed out and die slower and potentially survive even normally fatal wounds and regenerate even more abnormally fast. Some have a high enough “Undying” trait that they can regenerate missing limbs or survive their head being cut off. The “Authority” trait gives the manifestation the ability to infuse their “mind” (Syberelmian avatar) or Syber Cells into certain things in order to exert some sort of control over it. They are usually limited to something they are supposed to rule over or have jurisdiction of and can also better predict how anything under said jurisdiction will act or behave. Which can help to better control it.

“The Embodiment” is a vessel that calls to those that are literal manifestations of something, be it weather gods, beings of emotions, spirits of nature, etc..

This vessel grants those contained within it the “Authority” trait. Which gives the manifestation the ability to infuse their “mind” (Syberelmian avatar) or Syber Cells into certain things in order to exert some sort of control over it. They are usually limited to something they are supposed to rule over or have jurisdiction of and can also better predict how anything under said jurisdiction will act or behave. Which can help to better control it. The “Transformation” trait allows the user to transform their body and Avatar in specific ways. In the case of those trapped within the bounds of this vessel, they usually transform into something relating to whatever it is they supposedly embody and may be able to mimic or generate similar phenomenon.

“The Enlightened” is a vessel meant for those who received some sort of enlightenment or divine, universal and / or otherwise truth. Be it those driven mad from a glimpse of true reality or those who escaped the cycle of suffering and reincarnation.

The “Insight” trait is a strange one that allows for easier convenience of information to others. This can take the form of merely being able to calculate the best way to present something to someone or literally being able to directly send information into the heads of people or machines. One must be careful since some have seen truths so mind-blowing or incomprehensible that sharing them can cause mental harm, debuffs, or insanity. Their “High Mind” allows them to better recognize and resist the manipulation, lies, or illusions of others, be it forceful hacking or sly tricks, and better understand what is happening around them.

“The Trickster” is a vessel meant to be filled by those who are famous for tricking or outsmarting others, be it gods and spirits or mere men with well-placed words or cunning desires.

The Disguise trait is one that allows for its holder to better obscure information about themselves within the Syberelm. Making it harder to divine their names and info. The higher the rank of this ability the more info can be obscured. The “Illusion” trait allows one to create various illusions that can mess with perception. Sometimes they take the form of visual and / or auditory hallucinations but sometimes it can even affect memory or just how things appear in the Syberelm.

“The Avatar” is an odd type of vessel that is made up of those who act as extensions or components of another, usually much larger, entity. Like the mortal form of a god or divine force.

The “Inheritance” trait gives an Avatar the ability to “borrow” or inherent one or more traits, abilities, information, or skills from the entity they are an avatar of. The “Remote Manifestation” allows for the vessel to receive information and energy from the one they extend from. This can allow them to function without a core if the one they are an “Avatar” of can reach them.

“The Cataclysm” is a vessel meant for containing some of the most destructive figures. Specifically, those who destroy the world or civilizations.

This vessel archetype comes with the “Points of Precision” to give a better understanding of someone or something’s weak points or shortcomings via inherited knowledge or being able to better sense and analyze behavior to reveal them. “Death’s Devastation” causes them to initiate some sort of “self-destruct” protocol when they die. Harming things nearby in the Syberelm and potentially the physical world depending on the specific trait’s variant.

“The Beyond” is the rarest vessel and seldom seen. Those eligible for it are entities with an emphasis on being beyond human comprehension or understanding. Sometimes their vessel category shows up as “???” because the vessel can barely function or glitches out.

The “Incomprehensible” trait makes it much harder to understand or see a “Beyond’s” true form in both the Syberelm and physical world unless they take on a “lower form” that the mind can comprehend or if certain conditions are met, of which vary from individual to individual. Their “High Mind” allows them to better recognize and resist the manipulation, lies, or illusions of others, be it forceful hacking or sly tricks, and better understand what is happening around them.

There also exists an “Error” “vessel” for specific vessels that are corrupted or partially destroyed but somehow still functioning.

Digital Phantasms can manifest in various ways. The main ways are via summoning, object, possession, projection, and binding.

The act of summoning involves giving the phantasm a digital body, either by supplying enough biomass from the proper creatures, usually human, or using specially engineered “Syber Cells.” Technorganic cells that can act as a physical body for Syberelmian entities. Both types of these bodies require a special data crystal that acts as a phantasm’s “core” for the purpose of containing info and invoking the proper vessel archetype. Bodies composed of Syber Cells tend to last longer and require less upkeep and energy than co-opted cells.

Object manifestations are when a Digital Phantasm is somehow tied to an object. Those who wield the object or interface with it can commune with the corresponding Digital Phantasm and the object may grant certain abilities, information, or programs. Usually, the objects Digital Phantasms are bound to resemble applicable relics and symbols tied to them and most seem to have a preference for this. Like full summoning, there is a special data crystal that acts as the core for an object embedded somewhere within it.

A possession is when a Digital Phantasm uses someone’s host as a body. Sometimes this leads to the host’s mind being overtaken and destroyed but sometimes the mind of the Digital Phantasm and host fuse or are both active. Either way, this creates an interesting entity that has traits from both the host and Digital Phantasm and the possessed will begin to change physically as they exhibit both some of the physical and mental traits of the possessing figure to some degree. Sometimes the possession is restricted to a specific body part or prosthetic to prevent the rest of the user’s body or mind from being altered. A data crystal needs to be embedded somewhere within the possessed body to act as a core.

Projection is the simplest form and least strenuous of manifestation, but it usually considered the weakest. The Digital Phantasm simply creates a digital, spirit-like, projection. However, this is usually restricted in influence to the Syberelm, and they are forced to tie themselves to someone meant to act as their proxy or medium in relation to the physical world.

The final way to summon a Digital Phantasm is through the use of “Command Circuits.” Like possessions, it involves the implementation of a data core into one’s body. However, in addition to this, one or more special circuits are put into one or more parts of the body, connecting to the data core. This gives the owner a Syberelmian connection and control of the bound Digital Phantasm(s). They act as the “center” of its manifestation and can forcefully dispel or reform its body and even give the phantasm certain commands or rules it has to follow. One should be careful as smarter phantasms may look for loopholes or disable their controller before they can think of a proper command. Some are also harder to control than others for various reasons.

Summoning a digital phantasm requires a lot of resources and can be dangerous. There’s always the risk that someone can pull in some other Syberelmian entity and a vessel or phantasm can be corrupted and influenced by the Syberelmian gods. If done improperly a manifestation can overload whatever is being used and cause it to overheat or break down. The Digital Phantasm also gets a say in its summon and it can reject its summon but it can also just not receive the invitation for the summon due to a loss of communication. The most consistent way to effectively summon a Digital Phantasm is by involving a relic connected to them or doing something big enough in their name but even this is not guaranteed to work. Relics and such artifacts tend to attract the phantasms because many desire to make sure they are remembered and pass on their legacy or they know some people could see them as valuable. Many also fight to remake the dying world in their own image and it is said many of the great legends of humanity are left fighting eternally somewhere in the unknown depths of the Syberelm or fading into history. Very few ever even get the chance at a physical summon because they are either stopped by others or the paths leading to the rest of the Syberelm are closed. The part where the phantasm’s true body resides is very cut off from almost all of the Syberelm. It is suspected that this is to protect it from the influence of the Syberelmian gods

While the Digital Phantasms are indeed powerful and marvels of technology they are not infinite and have their limits. Each figure has a limit to how many summons can exist at one time. More powerful or popular phantasms seem capable of manifesting more summons but trying to exceed a certain number can put a burden on the phantasm and cause it to slow or stats to decrease. So most phantasms have a cap on how many can manifest at once. On average, an average phantasm can have one manifestation of some kind for each of their possible vessel archetypes. Some of these manifestations can overlap or transform from one to the other and exceeding this number of manifestations can lead to the various manifestations of a Digital Phantasm to grow weaker. The memories amongst even the same phantasm can be finicky. Theoretically, all memories are carried back to the phantasm’s “true” and complete form so they should be able to remember everything each of their vessels remembered upon death but this is not always the case. Sometimes summoning a phantasm and putting it into a vessel can cause it to lose certain memories. This is because the vessels are meant to unite synergistic parts of a Digital Phantasm into a cohesive unit. If something does not fit into that by creating too much of a contradiction it will be left behind or deleted. How the Digital Phantasm is summoned can also influence this. Sometimes information is simply lost as it travels through the Syberelm upon the death of a Digital Phantasm’s manifestation. A Digital Phantasm might be “saved” by other Syberelmian entities but this can lead to them being cut off from their true form in various ways or unable to properly rejoin it upon death as to avoid its corruption.

Digital Phantasms can also come with “Armaments” based around their legend. Some might have the ability to manifest or mimic a sword they were famous for using. Some also have special “powers” or techniques that are meant to recreate certain moments or moves.

Each Digital Phantasm has a “username” that acts as a sort of “true name.” Usernames can be important since they can be used to locate the one that holds it or to find out about a phantasm’s strengths and weaknesses as well as their vessel. Different manifestations can actually have different usernames even if they are manifesting from the same figure or “source.” It is believed that each manifestation has only but a part of the true phantasm’s full name.

Digital phantasms often organize their abilities and information into convenient “profiles.” Their stats are usually broken down into strength (physical power), attack (destructive power), speed (the speed at which they can move across a landscape), agility (reaction speed), intellect (how much knowledge they can hold), wit (how fast they can think), defense (how durable their bodies are), stamina (how long they can go without rest), health (how well they can resist disease and poison), and resolve (how resilient their minds are to mental interference and Syberelmian attacks). These stats are usually numbered 1-5 with 3 being for an average human, 4 for the average Olympian or prodigy, and 5 for the limits of the human body. Some have 6/5 in a stat which represents something beyond human or “godlike.” 0 is used for something non-applicable or non-existent. Different manifestations of the same phantasm can have different stats due to drawing upon different aspects of a figure. Certain traits or abilities can cause stats to temporarily rise or drop.

Digital phantasms have “alignments” split into two parts. The first part dictates their adherence to order or chaos with a “orderly, neutral, or chaotic” while the second part dictates how self-centered they are. From least to most self-centered it goes: “benevolent, impartial, and malicious.“ There also exists ???? for those who cannot be sorted into the normal categories for whatever reason, such as operating beyond human reason. These are meant to give a rough idea of a phantasm’s temperament and behavior.

Despite usually having some sort of remarkable physical or Syberelmian ability, many manifestations still have to wear a certain level of protective gear when moving across the desecrated Earth. Even ones that can directly withstand the unforgiving world risk being wounded or burning much more energy than normal to keep themselves alive. Protective gear also has the added benefit of helping them hide their identity or hide amongst normal people as they try to achieve whatever their goals are.

Art Direction

Fights tend to be a lot more bombastic and anime-esque (like Metal Gear Revengeance). Armies tend to be smaller and engage in skirmishes because of the lower population, but said fights can be more destructive and flashy due to the more advanced technology.

Within the comic everything is in black and white with the exception of the sky and certain sources of light. The sky is normally green but when the sky is blue the entire comic is in color. This shade of blue sort of represents hope while the sickly green sometimes represents despair. Because of this, the same rule applies to even pictures and videos of a blue sky (the entire comic will be in color when these are shown). Pictures of the green sky will depict the sky as green but will not render the entire comic in color. Certain light sources will also be rendered in color, usually to display the presence of a faction’s ideology and goals with them, i.e. what they hope for the world. The black and white atmosphere is also meant to capture how dark the environment is due to the Miasmic Haze while keeping things visible (the lack of color brings things closer to a nighttime appearance and emphasizes how different things are when sunlight is present).

#O:BS #douglysium #operationbluesky #OBS #black writers #worldbuilding #writing #oc #sciencefiction #scifi

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neovenatorgirlteeth · 3 years ago

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DINOVEMBER DAY 9: 250MYA, ONELEKIAN STAGE; TRANSANTARCTIC MOUNTAINS, ANTARCTICA

The aftermath of The Great Dying has been severe, and the world of the Triassic is shaping itself to be very different to the Permian. The once dominant synapsids have been whittled down to two small groups; a group of anomodonts called the dicynodonts, like this Lystrosaurus, and a group of theriodonts called the cynodonts; our own dog-like ancestors. All life has suffered, apart from slimy sulphur-eating algae that in normal conditions would be restricted to volcanic pools. Temperatures are still high, the deserts are still vast and inhospitable, and Pangea continues to fracture. Only the coasts are habitable, and the tropicals are ravaged by seasonal supermonsoons generated from the air currents created by the one sea that stretches from pole to pole. These conditions will persist for the rest of the Triassic, shaping the world and it's inhabitants.

Lystrosaurus is an unlikely looking survivor, but for a while this strange piglike animal was the most common vertebrate on land. It's favoured habitat, coastal lowland marshes, was relatively untouched by the extinction, and it's lifestyle of choice, wading through the wetlands like a hippo, using it's tusks to dig for roots, and burrowing for shelter has helped them weather the storm. However, this cannot save them from the revolution to come.

Whilst crossing a channel of deeper water, this Lystrosaurus has encountered one of the numerous reptilian predators of the Triassic; a hook-nosed Proterosuchus, equally at home on land and in the water. Her serrated teeth sink into the the neck of the Lystrosaurus as her jaws clamp down on her, ready to drag her beneath the surface. The Lystrosaurus gasps as her lungs fill with a mix muddy water and her own blood. Reptiles are quickly rising to fill the power vacuum left by the synapsids, and the largest reptilian predators like the big-headed Erythrosuchus are already as big as the largest synapsid predators of the Permian. This is one of the most dangerous and unstable times in the earth's history, and the animals of the Triassic must be as fierce as the threats that they face. Welcome to the age of reptiles.

#dinovember 2022 #dinovember #anthem posts #anthems art #triassic #lystrosaurus #proterosuchus #dicynodont

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saltwife · 3 years ago

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Introducing ... Hesper! :)

Hesper’s people live in the caldera of a (more or less) extinct volcano on the northern edge of the habitable zone of the known world, which they call the Mother Mountain. The crater walls are very high and steep (both outer and inner), leading to the geographic isolation of their group. The land around the mountain is very dry and inhospitable, but the crater traps the few clouds that do form; and that, in combination with the rich volcanic soil and geothermic energy, has made the land inside the caldera lush and fertile.

The Aspidoceles, indigenous lizardfolk, are entirely female and reproduce by parthenogenesis; but the production of viable eggs does need to be stimulated by a partnering ritual. It is not uncommon for one to choose to be a single mother and take a sex partner purely for the purpose of conceiving.

Hesper’s egg-mother is Stella Vega, one such single parent. Hesper has three clutch-sisters: Saggi, Huagin, and Caprica; and three other sisters hatched 7 years later: Lekka, Effe, and Vesta. In their culture, the custom is to take the egg-mother’s name as a surname; so Hesper is Hesper Stella, her egg-mother is Stella Vega, her egg-mother was Vega Luna, and so on.

Stella Vega is the leader of the small group of druids that act as healers and advisers for the community of Aspidoscelis. They interpret the voice of the Mother Mountain to help the people prepare for adverse weather, decide which crop would be most advantageous to plant, where in the forest the hunting will be best this season, and so on. They are also charged with tending the sacred hot springs. The druids are a respected part of the community, but are somewhat set apart by their role, living in a lodge on the grounds of the pools.

Hesper was the first-hatched of her clutch, and as such was apprenticed to her mother when she was ten. She was never resentful of this expectation, but looked forward to following in her mother’s footsteps. She preferred spending time in nature, and on her own, to being with her clutch-sisters or other children, feeling more at home in the forest or on the mountainside than in town. As a result she isn’t particularly close to her clutch-sisters - they care about each other and their relationship is fine; they just don’t have much to talk about. She is closer to Lekka, despite the age gap. Lekka finds the druidic life a little lonely and leans on her older sister for companionship.

___

The ‘Call to Adventure’

For the past couple of months, the Aspidoscele druids have been reading strange portents: Oddly shaped clouds, mushrooms growing in strange formations, moss growing in unexpected places. A hunter found a two headed fawn in the woods, apparently stillborn, untouched by scavengers. The circle was uncertain what exactly these signs meant, but they agreed that it probably wasn’t good. Then came the dream… Hesper had a vision of a black rain pouring from the underside of a floating island, burning the land below as though it were acid. That same day, there was a fire in the sky; something fell in flames toward the groun, and crashed with an impact that lit up the horizon. The circle conferred and decided that this must all be related, and needed to be investigated. Stella felt she was too old to make the journey over the rim herself, and so she decided to send her eldest daughter Hesper instead.

Hesper followed the reports of traders and travelers toward the impact site, chasing rumours and whispers. As she got closer to the town of Riversedge, far south of the Mountain, the rumors developed a common thread: the thing that had fallen from the sky was a person. Unbelievably, they proved to actually be true. The creature called itself Skyfall, and pretended ignorance of how and why it had come to be in this world. Hesper must now decide what to make of this person, and whether their presence portends hope or doom.

Hesper's favourite food is frogs. :v

#dnd #dnd character #lizardfolk #oc #my oc #art #my art #stella #go go lesbian lizards

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tragidean · 3 years ago

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the road less traveled [2.8k] (ao3) Written for Endings: A Destiel Fix-It Zine!

In the shadow of Mount San Jacinto and under the cover of dawn, Castiel wakes to winter’s pleasant chill flooding through the window. Stirring, he looks over the soft curve of Dean’s shoulder where he faces the window, at the moon hovering high and rising out of sight. He strokes down the soft plane of Dean’s chest before resting his hand over his stomach, where Dean breathes, long and deep.

For a long few minutes, nothing moves. The palms outside sit still, the semis traveling up State Route 111 don’t backfire, and no guests scream or blast their music. The world stands still, consisting of only Dean’s body in his arms and the sheets pulled over their shoulders.

For all of the desert’s hot afternoons and warmer evenings, nights are something to be treasured, especially in the cooler months, where the air is more bearable. Dean sleeps easier as the temperatures fall, content to let someone hold him, to rest in layers rather than stripping down just to cool off. As the years pass, Castiel has begun to acclimate to human temperatures. Spring and fall are his favorite, but only in other parts of the country, where it actually rains and the sun doesn’t bake the earth.

How they ended up in Palm Springs is a mystery to everyone but themselves.

Dean has a different story every morning when a guest asks just how four out-of-towners settled down in one of the most inhospitable cities in the country. Sometimes, he’ll say their car broke down and they never left. Other times, he’ll say they loved to golf and wanted to stay close to their country club. The reality is something much simpler. One day, Dean woke up and packed a bag with all of his things, and told Sam and Castiel to do the same.

It took a month, but they found a home, a place Castiel never thought Dean would settle down in. Now, Sam and Eileen live in the room next door. Dean sleeps soundly in the owner’s suite, and Castiel nuzzles his nape, chasing the scent of smoke clinging to the ends of his hair. Such a human smell, from the bonfire they held to celebrate the new year. He never showered after, just fell into bed, and Castiel climbed in with him, desperate to feel warm flesh against his own.

Looking at Dean last night, Castiel couldn't help but marvel at him, his muscles gone soft and his hair graying at his temples. Their hunting days ended the day Dean signed the lease. The most they do now is strip used linens from beds and clean the pool, and sit at the front desk waiting for tourists to step in the door. Dean has never looked happier in his life, and every day, Castiel cherishes his smile and kisses him every chance he gets, because this, this is something neither of them thought they would ever have.

Castiel, especially.

continue reading on ao3

#my writings #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #endingsfixitzine

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

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The Guide: Chapter 1/? (Ezra x f!Reader)

gif from @spectroscopes

word count: 5.2k

chapter warnings: reluctant saviour to lovers, injury to reader, one mention of rape, little angst, world building :)

summary: The Guide to Everything Ever is expanding, you are sent out to the furthest reaches of Nowhere to catalogue the planets there. What should have been a quick research mission quickly turns to disaster when you crash on a small forest moon. Injured, with no means of communication, you have to rely on the good will of a mysterious stranger...

a/n: first ever Ezra fic lets gooo!! i am super hyped for this i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3

masterlist // asks are always open :)

While The Guide to Everything Ever did cover everything ever, it was a little misleading in the boundaries of everything. History was no issue, there was even a large section of the book on prophecy, millions of consequences mapped out on a fold out flow chart. No, the issue was with physical boundaries of everything.

A long time ago the boundaries of the civilised universe were drawn up. From Eden to Xion-5, trillions of stars and quadrillions of planets all included inside the red line separating us from the somehow even more vast expanse of Nothing. There was nothing in Nothing, that much was well known. That was until a group of explorers did what explorers do and found Something. Something in Nothing makes Nothing impossible so the leaders of this great universe came together and decided The Guide to Everything Ever had to include this new Something in their Everything.

That is where you come in.

The Guide to Everything Ever has always relied on first-hand experience. The first edition was a disaster. It only contained the things everybody knew: how to fold a bedsheet and how to get your dog to not hump the postman. The only vaguely interesting part of the Guide was the planetary comments. Even those could send the most interested scientist to sleep! They tried using robots for the first edition, a mere collection of data from far away planets. This was not successful and The Guide only sold four copies.

The next edition was more ambitious. The editors worked out people were a lot more interested in different planets than they were in barbarian fortifications but they did not want to read reams of boring data from a robot called Steve. They wanted a real Steve to give his experience on these new planets. Honest, often humorous, and yet entirely educational extracts of missions across the stars. It didn’t matter that space travel was accessible to everyone. It saved everyone a lot of time waiting in those cold and boring shuttles to get from one side of the universe to another. They could sit in the comfort of their own homes and learn about the man-sized carnivorous plants of Ereta, the beautiful fabrics created on Lii, or which drinks to avoid if you ever find yourself in a Beetjing bar.

The Guide was a success from that point onwards and expanded each year. Soon the job of researcher became a coveted occupation. You were lucky to get into the academy. Only ten new researchers were added each century. You worked your entire life to get in and it paid off, you were off on your first mission into the furthest reaches of Nothing to report back on the wild ‘verse that filled it.

A long time ago space travel was thought of as the most exciting thing anyone could ever do. It was for a few decades but two centuries later it was commonplace. A lot like the London Underground, you just stuck your headphones on and let that distract you until you reached your far more interesting destination.

For your trip you had chosen to watch Anzarch Hospital. A rather cheesy Martian holovid show, it had been going for years. You were on season 85, with only ten episodes left until you were entirely caught up ready for the season finale which was due to air when you returned from this trip. You would rather be at home watching the episodes but this trip to the end of the line was necessary. It wouldn’t take long, a few rotations at least and then you could go to Annie’s party and watch everyone’s favourite doctor finally find out who killed her robot nurse wife.

Nobody ever said Martian holovids were high class, but they were fun.

The computer interrupted your binge, alerting you with a ding that you were within range of your destination and would be stepping out of hyperspace. You pressed a few buttons, accepted the action, and went back to the episode.

It wasn’t until a few moments later when the lower pitch dong did not sound to let you know you had dropped out. Confused, you switched off the holovid and moved back to the cockpit. It was a new ship, it shouldn't have hyperdrive issues yet. But well versed as you were with glitchy hyperdrives you knew what to do. You pressed some buttons, pulled a lever, dragged the ship out of autopilot and twisted one final knob to drop out safely and without panic.

Your routine was correct. The ship dropped out of hyperspace but as the darkness cleared so did any sense of calm. You were already in the thermosphere, hurtling down to the forest covered grounds at electric speeds. Alarms blared as soon as the devices registered the new atmosphere and severe lack of control.

“Please slow down, your destination is ahead at 750 km,” The computer said cheerfully.

“Stupid thing! You’re going to kill me!” You yelled over the alarms.

“That’s not very nice,” The computer replied, “It’s not my fault the hyperdrive isn’t working,”

“You knew?” You shouted. The sides of the ship rumbled and rattled as the change in air density dragged along the surface. The holoprojector vibrated off the table, crashing to the ground and smashing into pieces. There goes all your holovid downloads, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Destination in 400km,” Every minute of your training was coming back as you worked through every combination of buttons and levers on your dash. Nothing was working.

“Computer? Is there still a parachute in this model?” It was archaic but you prayed that your ship was old enough to still be fitted with one. If it, wasn’t you were never going to slow down fast enough?

“Yes, would you like me to deploy it?” The computer asked.

“Yes!” You shouted at the machine.

“Deploying parachute,”

The parachute erupted from the back of the ship with a loud hiss and pop as it opened into the air. The sudden draw backward lurched you forward, smacking your head onto the metal dash in front of you.

You groaned, holding your hand to the injury immediately. A good splattering of blood now set across the screen and was dripping down your face into your eyes.

“Destiable approach im one minu,” The computer said. You frowned, trying to concrete over the throbbing pain in your head. “Systeeee affectabed,”

“Please tell me I’m not having a stroke,” You pleaded. You were not. You could speak and understand language perfectly. The computer, however, was not okay.

Computers are all well and good, very helpful things to have around that is until their processors are catapulted out by a poorly fitted fabric parachute.

You didn’t have time to worry about the broken computer as the trees below were coming closer and closer.

“Fourteenth millennia remaaaa,” The computer slurred. You ignored it. You didn’t need a reminder of how closer to being impaled by a huge tree you were. Instead of panicking you did the only thing you could, strap in and hope that it was all over quickly.

You pulled the straps of the pilot’s seat down tight over your arms, gripped the armrest tight and shut your eyes. The ship whistled through the air, the drag of the parachute doing very little to slow it down. You screwed your eyes shut, cursing every god you have ever known at your terrible luck. You would never see your family again, never see your friends again, and even more importantly you would never find out who killed the nurse in Anzarch Hospital!

The first contact with forest sent the ship off its course, spinning wildly out of control as the craft hit branch after branch. You screamed as the ship tumbled to the ground.

Finally, you came to a stop. Upside down, hanging from a tree, your ship rocked from side to side. You groaned, aching all over from the rough treatment of your descent. You spat out the blood that had pooled in your mouth and tried to think of a plan. Much like the now dead computer you couldn’t really think in words. More drawled sentences drowned out by pain.

The smell of fuel was the thing to get you moving. You gently unbuckled yourself from the seat, careful to not drop yourself on the ceiling and injure yourself anymore. You climbed around the small circular pod to reach the door.

Inhospitable atmosphere. Air unfit for external respiration, respirator advised.

You grumbled and cursed as that warning meant you’d have to climb up the wall of the still swaying pod to reach your kit. It was heavy and difficult to put on at the best of times, this was quite possibly the worst of times.

With a sharp tug the suit and helmet fell out of the cupboard above your head, narrowly missing you as it fell. Carefully, so as not to trip on the steel beams of the ceiling at your feet or cause the ship to swing and fall any further, you pulled the suit on. It was soft, having never been worn before, lightweight and fit you well. The helmet was heavy, a seal at the bottom to prevent any toxins leaking in and the filter was attached to the back of the dome. It was not ideal but you hoped you could find civilization quickly and would be able to take it off fast.

Helmet on. Bag on. Boots tied. Out the door.

In the small amount of luck, you still held, the ship was only six feet above the ground. You sat on the top of the door and jumped out, landing gracefully on your feet in a large patch of unusual plants. The air filter quietly hummed as it set to work cleaning the air around you and you inspected your surroundings. That was where your luck ran out, as you gathered yourself together you looked to your wrist, to the screen of your watch to look at a map to discover the direction you should go, only to find it smashed beyond repair. You had no guidance.

Dark forest was all you could see in any direction. The canopy was so dense only a small sprinkle of light made its way to the floor. Bouncing off the particles in the air, the space around you glittered in the light. It was silent, only the wind rustling through the grass and twigs under your boots made any noise. You picked a direction and walked, hoping you would come across someone soon.

You found a single well-trodden path after an hour of walking through waist high grass, the pollen of which had now covered your suit in a green blue film that made your hands itch terribly when you touched it, bringing up red rashes almost immediately.

The path made its way through the trees, more light coming through as you made it to the edge of the forest. You couldn’t make out much beyond the break in the trees as the contrast between the darker interior showed the outside in white light. You smiled; open space probably meant civilisation!

As you approached the light your eyes began to strain. Sharp pain cut into your eyes, you groaned and squinted bringing your hands to your helmet to cover them automatically. It was no use as a migraine was quickly taking hold. You continued forward, finally breaking the tree line, feeling the heat of the sun through the thin fabric of your suit.

Then everything went black

“What a curious creature,” A low voice woke you. Slowly you gained consciousness, immediately aware of the throbbing pain throughout your body, you pushed to sit up only to feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, “Careful now,” The stranger warned you. You peeled your eyes open and looked up at the creature that spoke. Dome headed in a yellowed fabric suit, Light reflecting off his head obscured his face. The creature spoke kindly and you would have believed the tone too if it weren’t for the pressure of his foot on your forearm and gun in your face. “What’s a thing like you doing in these parts?”

“I-I’m injured,” You tried to speak confidently but your pain overtook your tone as you opened your mouth, “My ship crashed not far from here,”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” The creature mused.

“Please,” You choked out as darkness threatened your vision once more, “Help me,”

The creature frowned, contemplating his decision as if he were choosing a candy bar at a corner store. You tried to move from under him but the effort was too much and you fell into unconsciousness again.

As your eyes closed and breathing softened, the stranger released his foot from your shoulder. His boot left a muddy footprint on the white material that covered your arm. He watched you for a few more seconds, then presuming you were dead he stepped over your body to the blue rucksack that had fallen just behind you. He was in desperate need of medical supplies and clean clothes wouldn’t hurt either.

The stranger rooted through the rucksack, pulling all kinds of things out. Clothes and food, writing equipment and a flip up device that he did not recognise as anything useful. There were no weapons, and no survival equipment of any kind. You were packed for a Sunday stroll, not a trip to the Green. Whoever you were, you were not like the usual people who came here.

The stranger’s cool demeanour changed when he saw your identification card. A gold card, approximately the size of his palm fell out of the bag and into his lap with a soft tap. He picked it up and inspected it, instantly knowing he was screwed. The Guide’s golden emblem was easy to recognise, while he couldn’t read the language that inscribed the card, he could make assumptions. You were a researcher. It was a well-known fact that Guide researchers were protected. If anyone found out you were dead, he would be convicted no matter what he said. There would be no planet in the entire universe he could hide on from the Guide.

Begrudgingly, he had to save you.

Without any other option, he shoved the contents of your bag back inside its original case and threw it over his shoulder. Then came the difficult task of moving you. It wasn’t for lack of strength that the stranger had difficulty with this task, more to do with the fact he had only one arm. He knew it wasn’t far to his camp, he had only been walking for five minutes before you fell into his path.

He couldn’t carry you. With only one arm it didn’t matter how strong the man was he could never hold you up well enough. He tried to wake you first, it would be far more helpful to him if you could walk. He shook your shoulders to try and rouse you but you were out cold. He had no choice but to drag you.

A quick assessment of your body told him you were not injured too badly, apart from the sores developing on your hands from exposure to pollen and a wound on your forehead inside your helmet. He checked your pulse again, feeling it strong through his gloves he was happy that you were not dead and would not be wasting his time. He grabbed the fabric around your shoulders and pulled you back to his camp.

It took a while but he made it there safely without cracking your helmet or injuring you anymore. He set you down on the floor of his tent, pulled his helmet off for comfort, then got to setting up a recovery bed for you.

The stranger pulled a rolled-up mat from under his cot and placed it on the ground and finally rolled your body in its final place on top and he waited for you to wake up again. It wouldn’t take long, he heard you mutter something as he carried you back and even in the low light of his tent, he could see your eyes moving behind your eyelids. The stranger sat on the edge of his cot, watching you carefully with his weapon in hand in case you woke up violent.

After a few moments, you began to stir. The first thing you noticed as you gained consciousness was the pain in your body. Every inch of your body throbbed but nothing more than your head. You felt hard ground beneath you, but no leaves or dirt, it was cold to touch. You peeled your eyes open, met with a low orange light bouncing off dark tent like material.

“Do not be alarmed,” A man said from across the room. You immediately turned your head to see but saw nothing more than a dark blob, “You are safe,”

You found it very hard not to be alarmed. The last thing you remembered was getting out of your ship into a forest, now you were in a small dark tent lit by one single golden lightbulb with a strange blob sat across from you.

Carefully, you pushed yourself up to sit up from your position on the floor. Noticing the blob was more of a man, and without a helmet, you figured it was probably safe to remove yours. With a sharp tug and a hiss from the oxygen tank you were open to the air and you set the helmet down next you. You rubbed your hand across the back of your neck, screwing your eyes shut as a headache shot through your skull.

You studied the man in the soft light. You could not guess his age, simultaneously old and young, you guessed he was a little older than you. He had tanned skin and dark hair with a curious white, blonde streak in the front. A surprisingly well-kept moustache and a spattered beard covered his lower face and a white scar on his left cheek all together created an intriguing character.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. His kindness was unsettling. There was a gentle tone to his voice and a kindness in his eyes but everything outside of that was the complete opposite. You could not remember how you got here; all you knew was the pain your body was in. Had he attacked you? Had he saved you from something else? He could have killed you, but he didn’t. Something must have enticed him to save you and bring you here. Then you saw it.

In the stranger’s hand, he held a gold card. Your identification card. The golden emblem projecting from the card flickered in the poor light, showing your name and number and rank.

“Should I be asking for an autograph?” The stranger looked back up at you, a smirk on his lips, “I’ve always wanted to meet an author,”

“I-I am not an author,” You coughed, clearing your throat before speaking, “I’m a researcher,”

“You pen those books though, don't you? The Guide?” He asked, “There’s not that much literature being produced this day and age,”

“Technically, but we like to think it’s a team effort,” You shrugged, “I just collect the data and write preliminary reports,”

“Does your team know you’re lost here?” The stranger asked.

“No, I… I don’t know,” You said sadly. The computer had broken before you could send a distress call. With no way to get a message to them from the outer ‘verse it would take weeks for anyone to realise anything was wrong, “I would have to find a signal strong enough to send a distress message but the only way I could do that was with my ship,” You thought aloud. You paused for a moment, trying to remember what actually happened when you fell from the sky, “Where is my ship? Where are we?”

“I never saw your transport I’m afraid,” The stranger said, “You must have walked a considerable distance before crossing paths with me,” You frowned, without your ship you were stuck, “I brought your backpack, if that's of any aid to you,”

You immediately lit up. Taking that as a yes, the stranger reached over the cot and pulled up your rucksack. It was caked in mud and a lot less full than you know it should have been, but you ignored his looting and grabbed the bag from his hands.

The only things left inside were your underwear and a hygiene kit. Your stomach twisted at the thought that you had lost the most important item in the bag. Dumping the contents on the floor you searched through every pocket. The Stranger watched you, one brow raised, wondering what you were looking for.

“Did you take it?” You asked, “It won’t work for anyone but me, you might as well give it back,”

“I do not understand,” The stranger looked puzzled, looking down at the things on the floor to see what had upset you.

“My Guide, where is it? I don’t care about the other things, I need that back,”

“There were no books in there,”

“That is Federation property,”

“You’re going to have to explain what it is you’re so agitated about; I do not know what your Guide is,”

“You do, because you stole it!” You exclaimed. Raising your voice made your head hurt more, you flinched and screwed your eyes shut again.

“I am many things but I am not a thief,” The Stranger was offended by your accusation. You scowled at him. He was a liar and a thief, “I took the food from your bag as payment for my saving you,”

“The Guide uses my biometrics, it won’t be of any use to you or anyone you could sell it to,”

“Hold on, do you mean the flip device?”

“Yes!”

“That thing’s important?” He seemed genuinely surprised, “You can have it, it’s no use to me,”

The stranger stood up and walked the two steps to the other side of the small space. From a cluttered table he picked up the black computer. You sighed in relief, there could be some hope for you yet. He passed you the gadget which to your amazement was still in working order. It had got a little scratched in the crash but you pressed your thumb to the lock and it opened it instantly.

Every researcher had their own personal guide. Similar to an ancient flip phone, used commonly on Earth in the early 2000’s, each Guide was a little bigger than your palm. Though small, it was very mighty. Not only did it store every piece of information a researcher collected, but it also allowed communication through text, audio and holo. Through the System there was unlimited access to other researchers' files, yet unpublished information and access to the ‘verse's existing records. There were maps and history of every planet, and more importantly to you at that moment, census records.

As you had expected, you had no signal on the surface of the moon to send a message to headquarters for a rescue. Instead you focused on what you could find out.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the man’s suit. Though a little hard to read in the dim light you could make out what looked to be an ID number. You had to know who your captor (or saviour) really was. 875-162.

You typed in the worn black ink digits and waited. Nothing was notorious for its poor reception. The stranger was no longer interested in you know you were engrossed in the computer and not trying to attack him, he got up and was rustling around out of view.

Finally, the page loaded. A photo matching the stranger, though a little younger looking, flashed up in holo. You quickly covered the beam with your finger so as not to alert the man with you. You swiped down to read the information.

“Ezra,” You said under your breath as you read the page.

“I don’t remember giving you my name,” Ezra spoke, making you jump. You looked up, cheeks growing hot as you realised you had said it out loud.

“I searched your ID number,” you said, embarrassed you’d been caught, you told the truth. Ezra frowned, looking around him to see where you had seen it. You pointed to the suit piled up on the floor. The numbers were faded and hard to make out from the distance but you had worked it out. Ezra followed your finger and chuckled lightly.

“I forgot such identification exists,” He said, “You have good eyes to make it out from there,” He added.

You hummed in agreement. You were in perfect condition, had to be for the work. Perfect condition except for the concussion and various bruises on your body.

“Well now you know my name, can I enquire as to yours? I doubt that everyone calls you Researcher 42,” Ezra read your name from the ID card beforehand. Leant against the shelves next to him, he looked down at you.

“Some do,” You said plainly.

“That ‘some’ includes me, does it,” He raised an eyebrow, not expecting you to become so cold.

“Seems like it,”

“42 seems a little impersonal considering I just saved your life,”

“I’m meant to stay separated from my subjects. Anonymity helps with objectivity,” You explained. That wasn’t entirely true. You had always made friends with at least one person in every planet or city you researched. It was how you got the inside scoop, the local knowledge that made your articles so popular. Guide Guidance said that researchers stay anonymous for objectivity, but your popularity said otherwise. You just didn’t want to get any closer to Ezra, even just a quick glance at his record told you that he was not someone you wanted to be friends with.

As he had already shown you, he was a thief. He had been convicted of fraud, arson and two counts of murder. No wonder he was here. Most of the places in Nothing were hot beds for criminals like him. Nowhere in Everywhere would hire him, you expected that he had been hired by a contractor to come here and work for his freedom. There wasn’t much freedom stuck on the green though.

“Whether you give me your name or not, you’ve not got much choice in staying separated. A helpless thing like you will need protection here,”

“And you’ll offer that for free, will you?” You asked sarcastically, immediately knowing he would want something from you in return. You were already indebted to him for saving your life.

“There are a few things I desire,” He looked over your body, smirk twitching on his lips. You curled your lip and moved away from him.

“If you’re going to rape me, I’d rather try my luck out there by myself,”

“Oh no! No, little mouse I would never. I have done some felonious acts but I am not a savage!” He exclaimed quickly covering for himself. You regarded him sceptically. He had supposedly killed two people; he’d already crossed a line most people would not. You didn’t believe he wouldn’t step over that line too. “No, The Guide will want you back, I imagine anyone who returned you would be well rewarded,”

“Possibly,”

“Here’s my offer. I provide protection and shelter whilst you are here, and come that fateful day your deliverance arrives, you will negotiate considerable compensation for me,”

“What compensation would you want?”

“Enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my days free of obligation, a ship to get me off this rock and a clear record,”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can see how well you fare in the forest alone. Food is pretty scarce this time of year and I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to push some more… basic human morals,” Ezra smirked as your eyes double in size. In all your travels you had never encountered cannibals, not human cannibals anyway.

“I- I can’t promise anything,” You stumbled over your worlds as you accepted faster than you should have. You didn’t know there was anyone other than Ezra on this planet, but you were not in the mood to find out.

“We will discuss details when the time comes,” He said. You nodded. “Now we have all that out the way,” He stood up from the floor, “I have to get to work,”

“What about me?”

“You aren’t coming with me,” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you just said-,” you started to protest until Ezra pulled a gun from seemingly nowhere, you immediately shut your mouth and flinched, “What is that?”

“Protection,” He held the gun out, waiting for you to take it.

“No, no, no! You said-“

“Until your people come to your aid, and give me my money, I’ve got to keep working. Any time wasted is money lost out here,” He explained impatiently. He stepped back closer to you and dropped the gun in your lap, “I assume you do know how to use that even if you don’t carry one yourself?”

You looked at the gun, assessing it properly. It wasn’t complicated, a barrel you assumed was already full of bullets and a trigger. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, apart from the electrical tape that was holding it together. With no more protest from you, Ezra assumed it was fine and stepped away, resuming his routine.

“I will be back at sundown. Help yourself to some food,” He told you.

“My food,” You corrected him.

“Remember who is dependent on who here, 42,” He said scornfully. With that he put his helmet back on to his head and left the tent leaving you all alone.

You waited a few moments to make sure he was gone before making your move. You couldn’t stay with a murderer. You were safer in your ship, wherever it was. You could make a distress call and be rescued. Ezra would never know.

You pushed the gun from your lap onto the floor and tried to stand up. Sat down you could feel how sore your limbs were, your back ached from just sitting up for a few minutes and you were pretty sure you could feel every bone in your feet. A light touch to the forehead told you there was a sizable egg growing on top.

Standing up the pain was worse. You immediately became dizzy, gripping onto the metal shelf quickly to stop yourself from falling. You cursed under your breath and took a deep breath. You could do it.

Or maybe you couldn’t.

You took one step towards the table of things Ezra kept, and fell back on your ass. You were lucky not to pull the shelves down with you as it rocked forward slightly. A few items fell off, narrowly missing you. You dodged the heavy items, cringing as the metal thumped to the ground.

Listening to your screaming body, you gave up. You shuffled back to your previously comfortable position against the wall of the tent and looked around you for something to keep yourself occupied.

There at your feet lay a small book. Ezra wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to meet an author, he apparently was a bibliophile. You picked the paper up, stretching to reach it over your bruised and aching legs. It was well worn, obviously water damaged as the pages curled and the image on the front as warped beyond recognition. The title: “Welcome to the Green”.

You were not going anywhere.

sooo what do you think? i had so much fun writing this fic, i hope you guys enjoyed it too. let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :D

TAGGING usuals and interested people :): @hunters-heathen @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @fandom-blackhole @writeforfandoms @dindja @amneris21 @yespolkadotkitty

#ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #x reader #ezra prospect angst #enemies to lovers #prospect movie #ezra #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #the guide #molly writes

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nelllraiser · 4 years ago

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hell’s true north | adam & nell

TIMING: current. LOCATION: hellscape number ??. PARTIES: @walker-journal & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: adam follows his compass home. CONTAINS: sibling death (brief references to the bea plot), mass poisoning (from inhospitable domain), parental death mentions.

Vines with the texture of withered leather fingers writhed under Adam’s feet as he stumbled out of a brackish puddle of ichor. Disaster response boots that’d been designed to weather fire, acid, and radiation had eventually yielded before the onslaught of otherworldly environs. Now the ragged soles barely clung to his feet, wrapped tight with bloody strips of bloody demon hide. The most cutting edge kevlar, environment-resistant tactical gear, breathing apparatuses, and deadly military firearms had been gradually ravaged into uselessness by universes full of chemicals and alternative laws of physics that Earthly science had never imagined. As the tactics, preparation, and martial science Adam had once relied on was stripped away in the nonstop battles with demonic flora and fauna, the title of Hunter had become brutally literal.

Adam spelunked through caverns that formed from the innards of sleeping elder things, scaled cliff sides made of solidified light and shadow, jumped across archipelagos of bone islands floating in stormy skies, climbed up trees the size of skyscrapers whose fruits were embryonic sacks in which monsters gestated, hiked across the savannahs with rolling plains of scalpel-sharp obsidian grass, and tightroped across worlds that were just spider webs of tentacles stretched across abyssal gyres.

Adam was now a ragged figure where a dauntless soldier had once been, the shreds of his tactical uniform stitched together with leather and pieces of chitin. Once the olympics-ready peak of health, the footballer’s veins were stained with dark lines across his skin and he stumbled across the landscape of grasping roots and tide pools of black blood. His breathing was shallow treks through world after world had wracked the Hunter’s body with alien toxins that even the mutant’s regeneration was failing to fight off. Adam’s vision was blurred with the edges and everything muscle in his battered body begged to just lay down in darkness.

But the compass in Adam’s hand pointed the way across the hellscape of fire, floating islands of tentacled flesh, and geometric monoliths to old gods that's already sunk into dreaming torpor long before humankind had discovered fire. Adam fought back agony and followed the compass needles across the poisoned land.

Everything had blurred together by now. Nell couldn’t even clearly remember how she’d gotten to this realm, just that she’d fallen through far too many holes in the ground, off cliff sides, or out of sky-hanging oceans to even begin to remember what world this was. The red skies she’d originally arrived under were long gone, barely a memory after all the worlds that had followed, and all the attacks she'd scrambled to come out of in one piece. Though perhaps calling herself one piece was being generous when she’d resorted to packing the missing chunks of her flesh with whatever she could find that didn’t instantly sting and burn at her open wounds. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d slept, time still immeasurable in places like these— just that she hadn’t done it since the baykok’s attack. The lack of sleep meant she hadn’t been able to replenish a single shining grain of her magic after she’d been quite literally drained and fed from, her body having nothing but sheer determination to keep her wavering feet from falling out beneath her.

Something was the very definition of fundamentally wrong with this world in terms of survivability. Nell could feel it in the way each breath felt sharper than the last, and the ugly coughs that had her spitting up black specks on the palms of her hands. None of the places she’d seen could have been described as friendly, but this one felt like it was digging her foot deeper into the grave with every second she stayed. She needed to find a way out if she wanted to make it another hour. Nell was far past the point of finding a way back to White Crest, ready to settle for a hellscape that wasn’t killing the witch with every inhale of her lungs, and go from there if she could manage to last that long. How long had she lasted already? How much longer could she last? She’d always been a fighter, refusing to go down without taking at least a part of her attacker with her. But how could she carve out a piece of a world? How was she meant to rage against an entire realm? Maybe sometimes there was simply nothing to fight against, the hand of Fate snuffing out her life whether she liked it or not.

And yet she kept walking, limping along as the injury on her leg oozed with some otherworldly infection that promised to kill her if this air didn’t. There was no direction, no plan, just the foolish hope that she’d stumble into a place where she could properly breathe. She walked until she could barely make out a figure on the horizon, squinting her eyes against the bright green and dingy brown of this place while she wondered if this would be the final creature to kill her. But the figure grew closer, and despite her best judgement an uncontrollable wave of hope flooded her chest. “Adam?” she dared to utter, even though she knew it was far too good to be true. Nell and the hellscape had done this before in the form of a tikbalang sending her astray with the perfect illusion of her hunter. “We’re doing this again?” she asked the air in a tone that was resigned to the disappointment of finding another falsehood, the high instantly giving way to a low. “What is it? Another tikbalang?” But this Adam was different. He looked sickly, and past the point of battered— like he’d already knocked on death’s door only for death to tell him to come back in ten or so minutes. They’d call him when they were ready. Why would an illusion-caster show her this?

Hallucinations had become ever more common as toxic environs and constant otherworldly stimuli wore down Adam’s nervous system.

Sometimes it was dad, gently reminding him of past lessons as Adam fought his way through nightmarish creatures and tried to find his way through landscapes only possible in other realities. Other times it was James or Terry, come to chat idly about football and girls as Adam trekked across wastelands whose sloping yet flat contours didn’t obey the rules of time and space. Dave gruffly reminded him about knots and the perils of marine warfare as Adam journeyed through rivers that flowed up into the sky and seas of sentint poison. Regan gave pointers on splinting a broken arm with a demon’s bones all while primly reminding him she wasn’t that kind of doctor. Orion nervously recounted facts about obscure demon types as Adam ducked claws and spines while trying to find a weak point. Ariana punched Adam in the arm and reminded him to buck up and put on a tough grin when everything was just pain. Athena gave advice on slowing the poison’s spread through his body with her mixture of tenderness and steel. Kaden brusquely correctly Adam on his stances as the younger Hunter’s limbs trembled with neurological damage, before reminding him to stay alive. Mina kept him vigilant, pointing out dangerous movements and sounds even when every fiber of Adam’s body wanted to sink into oblivion. Morgan spoke gently to him when the horror became too much, her hand on his shaking shoulders when the mental strain of glimpsing elder things sent Adam into seizuring convulsions. Dani reminded him of duty and their ancestral oaths with a concerned smile when ancient deceivers whispered in Adam’s brain, offering easy miracles in his moments of weakness. Luce yelled at him to get the fuck back up and fight when Adam could barely stand and death’s release drew close. Beatrice demanded that Adam remember who he’d come her for, when poisoned dreams threatened to swallow reality entirely.

So this was not the first time Adam’d met Nell and had to hold back tears when stabbing yet another shapeshifter to death or felt crushing emptiness when it turned out he’d only embraced only empty air.

Adam looked down at the compass needle, pointing unerringly forward.

“Hey Nell,” Adam rasped through cracked lips, taking a green stone with a hole through its center from a cord around his neck. He held out the Adder Stone in one hand, gory knife clutched in the other. “When’d you give this to me?”

Nell looked to the Adder Stone held in Adam’s hand, her solemn resignation to the illusion disrupted by the flickering of uncertainty in her eyes. The compass was a new addition as well, though she recognized the daffodil bloom she’d carefully laid into the face of it, the magic and flowers they’d made together under a full moon. “But I didn’t- I was gonna give you that after the date,” she mumbled, already chiding herself for how easily a couple of emotional trinkets could sway her mind towards what the demon world wanted her to see. But the compass wasn’t what he was asking about. The Adder Stone. Of course she remembered when she’d given it to him- the first of many things she’d gifted in an attempt to keep him safe.

“After Bea- after we...brought her back.” Nell had masqueraded the gift as a thanks for Adam’s help in bringing her sister back from the ether, but the truth had gone deeper than that. “I said it was for helping protect my family. But I just- the carachs had just given you those visions, and the somnivore thing wasn’t that far off.” It’d been nearly a year ago that she’d delivered the stone, nearly five months after their first meeting at the Ring, and by then she’d already gotten soft for him. “You were hurting and- I didn’t want you to hurt.” Taking the Adder Stone between her fingers, she swallowed hard as she held it before her face, already dreading the moment he’d disappear before her eyes. The motion sent her into a brief coughing fit, the heaves long and loud as her lungs desperately tried to dispel the poison in her system. At the end of it she finally raised the stone’s center to her eye, knowing this vision and her willingness to linger with even a false Adam had already shaved precious moments off the stopwatch that was ticking down the seconds until the poison got the best of her. “Let’s just- let’s get this over with.” It was silly, and she shouldn’t have said it knowing he was nothing more than an exhaustion or demon induced delusion. But she couldn’t help herself as the next words whispered from her lips, trying to find a moment of peace in a land that had never known it. “I miss you. I’ll miss you.”

Finally Nell looked through the stone’s center, still surprised at how solid it felt in her hands, wondering if that was another lie to be chalked up to feeling dead on her feet. Except Adam didn’t fade from view, didn’t disappear into nothingness as she locked her gaze onto his familiar and brown eyes. She gasped, still hardly believing it but reaching out nonetheless, letting the Adder Stone thump unceremoniously against his chest while its cord slackened and her hand found a gentle resting place alongside his cheek. Warmth. Perhaps a little too warm, as if he were running a fever. But there was the unmistakable feeling of life beneath her fingertips, and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer to close the space between them, slipping her other hand into his. Her knees grew even more unsteady, either from shock, barely having the energy to hold herself upright, or both— and for a moment she rested a little more weight against him than she probably should have considering his state. But it was impossible for her not to sink into the first safe place she’d found since the onychorror had snatched her. She’d finally found a place where she was safe in the hellhole. A place where she’d always been safe to crumble, to relieve her walls of their nearly ever-present duties. A place where she knew it was safe to fall because he’d never once stumbled when it came to catching her. “How- How did you- you’re real? Please- either this is a really good mindfuck or-” Or Tate had made good on his deal, and managed to get her hastily doctored sigil back to White Crest. Was it possible something had actually gone right? Had gone so right as to bring the man she loved to her side?

Adam let the knife fall from his hand onto the writhing ground and put his arms around Nell. There was a moment of tenseness, of resigned expectation. But she didn’t turn to mist, slip right through him, or boil up into some hungry thing. Tidal waves of relief and shock at something too impossibly good to be true collided in Adam’s chest. Nell was solid, real. Just a moment Adam couldn’t feel the heat of the burning sky or the poisons of alien worlds killing him cell by cell.

“I’m real,” Adam assured holding her tight with what strength was left in him. “I’m really here.” He entwined the fingers of their free hands. “I don’t want any other life except one with you in it,” the Hunter confessed, wasting precious water as the tears slid down his bloody and battered face.

“So uh...here I am.”

Nell could feel her own tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, an avalanche of relief washing over her near-ravaged spirit, almost still waiting for this moment to break in a way that left her spinning. But the moment never came, and Adam was breathtakingly solid within her arms. For a long breath she savored the peace he brought, like a salve over an open wound. She wanted to bury herself against him, to hide from the world around them and pretend like it didn’t exist, but the fear that he’d disappear if she so much as looked away from his gaze was too great, afraid to even blink lest the break in their eye contact be the blip of time needed for him to dissipate from under her hands.

She could feel her pulse gain a few extra beats while Adam made his declaration, heart in her throat while she ran his words on repeat through her mind. It was wrong. So wrong that such beautiful words should have to be uttered in a world as ugly as this one, spoken between the gasping breaths of a dying pair. Nell had always known that loving Adam wouldn’t be easy between his constant brushes with death, and the conditioning that often made him feel the need to put humanity’s welfare before anything else in his life. She’d done it nevertheless, having made peace with the fact that maybe he wouldn’t ever wholly be her’s, a part of him always belonging only to his mission. The pieces of him she’d been given had been more than enough. But that didn’t mean his admission didn’t tug at her heart, didn’t make it soar in a way that made a fluttering bloom in chest that had nothing to do with the poisonous air slowly killing her.

“Here you are,” Nell finally managed to repeat in wonder. Hadn’t he been the one trying to convince her to leave him behind should the demon apocalypse commence? He'd told her that she was a part of humanity’s hope for survival, that she should abandon him for the sake of the world. It was his own words that made her know the gravity of him choosing to come for her, to potentially sacrifice one of humanity’s hopes in the form of himself by searching for her in the endless worlds. And that was enough to keep her voice steady and sincere while she spoke. “I don’t want a life without you either.”

Part of Nell wanted to be upset with him, to scold him for being so foolish with his own life by following her into the portal, but she couldn’t manage to speak the words through the temporary moment of solace they’d found in the middle of hell— unwilling to break it. Unfortunately there was something else that needed to be said that would do just as good a job at shattering their moment of quiet. Something she couldn’t ignore. “There’s...something else I need to tell you.” Let her hold onto this shining feeling for just a few more seconds before she brought them back to reality.

Adam had grown up with the knowledge that his life wasn’t his own. It belonged to humanity’s destiny, a merciless idol that generations upon generations of his family had been sacrificed to appease. The abnegation of the self had been soothing in a way, it’d made him brave in a way. It doesn’t hurt to suffer and risk your life again and again if it isn’t truly yours to lose. He tried to never deceive the women in his life. Nobody deserved to be given only part of someone to love.

Mom and dad had loved each other intensely, and Adam had seen the aftermath after the needs of humanity had demanded yet another sacrifice. At the time he’d thought he’d learned a lesson from Esther Walker’s sorrow, and was determined to never hurt someone the way his father had.

But after three years of complete radio silence, Adam had spoken with mom and learned too late that he'd gotten it all wrong. As he’d grown, so had she, and neither mother or son were the same broken people that’d parted at Gehena 19.

Penelope was a person he shouldn’t have loved. She practiced demonology, the very art that’d fucked up the world in the first place. She’d participated in human trafficking and slavery. She’d performed ritual human sacrifice. She’d hunted down bounties without any concern for morality or a higher cause. She aided and abetted supernatural criminals simply because of her personal feelings. When these actions reaped consequences, Nell responded with personal wrath and revenge rather than seeking resolution, splintering tragedy into ever more fractals of repercussion.

Basically, by every standard he’d been raised to believe in, Penelope Vural was evil, and if she hadn’t been born human Adam would’ve been obligated to kill her.

But that’s not what happened. At first it’d just been that she was a useful ally. Next it'd just been typical horndog Adam, thinking with the head in his trousers rather than one on his shoulders again. Physical attraction and wary partnership had explained things for only so long however. She was brave, self-sacrificing, vivacious, and free to act according to passion and her free will in a way Adam had never dared to be. Eventually Adam was sharing things with her that he’d never dreamed of telling anyone else.

He wasn’t supposed to care about someone like Nell, to give her so much of what belonged to the mission. Adam could only love someone also sworn to fight the same war, no one else could understand the sacrifices necessary and what’d inevitably come sooner rather than later. Adam had been introduced to Huntresses his age with the unspoken understanding that eventually he’d find someone to fight alongside and raise children with to pass the sacred charge onto the next generation.

Adam had drank, partied, and screwed his way into forgetting for a while. Until suddenly, he ended up loving the wrong person, someone who wanted Adam for just himself, war be damned.

It wasn’t the right thing.

But what if he just….did y’know?

What he just loved Nell like she deserved without holding back, fight for his own humanity for a change?

Adam just wished he'd had the courage to take that plunge earlier.

Adam looked parted the embrace slightly so that he could meet her gaze “What is it Nell?”

Nell hadn’t planned to fall for Adam Walker, hadn’t even entirely noticed how close she’d let him get until she’d felt like she was on the edge of losing him, delivering the news that August Thompson had died a death far from peaceful— that Adam’s hand had been directly involved in the spellcaster’s demise. Of course she’d known he was one of the people she’d trusted most, one of the only people she’d ever let see her stripped to the core while he’d held her after Bea’s death. It was why she’d asked him to help in the first place. But she hadn’t realized just how much there was to lose until she was standing on the precipice. She’d been convinced that it would be the end, that she’d managed to ruin something before even really letting it begin, and that he wouldn't come back. It turned out she didn't need to worry about him coming back, because he’d never left in the first place. And he kept not leaving, something that had been rare in the life of a witch who had an overzealous temper and a reckless streak a mile wide.

So when he’d done things others might condemn or draw the line at— killed a werewolf in cold blood, admitted his own bloodlust beneath a full moon, gone on a murder spree fueled by the same moon, considered a demon pact, left her on read in the middle of feeling as if she were about to lose him...there’d been no choice of whether or not she’d grant him the same loyalty, to stay with him just as he’d stayed with her. She’d just wanted him to come home. And he always had. Even now, after fighting his way through literal hell, he’d come home.

Selfishly putting off her bad news for one moment longer, she let months of feeling the sun on her face when he smiled fill her soul, holding onto that feeling as she tried to find the words for what she wanted to say. What needed to be said if they didn’t make it out of this hellscape, and what she should have said much sooner despite being scared. She’d been worried about what he might say in reply, always thinking of that part of himself that she knew he felt he couldn’t give, not sure if she wanted to hear the ‘I’m sorry, but’ that she might get in response. But the man who’d dived into hell for her deserved to hear it, and she wasn’t scared anymore. “You know I love you, right?” He didn’t need to say it back, she’d finally realized that while he’d been walking towards her, knowing loving words could never speak as loudly as his actions had. “I just wanted you to know,” she assured him, letting him know she didn’t need to hear it in return. It wouldn’t change anything.

Now for the less charming of her news. “Not to...instantly bring the mood down but...the other thing I needed to tell you…” Nell glanced over her shoulder, as if the soul-snatching creature would be there even now as she divulged news of it. “There’s a...slaugh. I think it’s been following me.” Adam would know what it meant, that such creatures only went after those who were generally mere hours from dying, waiting to devour their souls. Nell had glimpsed it as she kept rubbing elbows with death in the hellscape, the being momentarily coming into focus while she’d barely escaped a demon encounter with her life still intact. The creatures were nearly as good at predicting death as banshees were.

Adam followed her gaze towards the burning horizon where plasma storms corrustated in lightning rainbows over living plains of crawling flesh. Slaugh were vultures of the spirit world. As a kid he’d been terrified of the invisible presences that set off his Hunter senses whenever there was a clash between militia forces around the Levant. It’d felt like a blizzard of dark wings, choking him with claustrophobia on empty arid plains covered in bodies shredded by shrapnel.

Mom had assured her son he wasn’t crazy. He could just feel the demons glutted humanity’s senseless wars against itself.

Adam‘s mind went back to Regan’s prophecy and felt an iron dread settle in his stomach, adding bittersweetness to the joy and relief coursing through his enervated body.

Adam let the future go and drew Nell close against him again, just letting this moment exist for as long as hell allowed. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth ,” he murmured.

The tension in Nell’s shoulders melted as Adam pulled her back, savoring their togetherness for as long as she could, feeling true hope for the first time since...she wasn’t actually certain how long it had been, not even knowing how many days she’d been stuck in these hell-worlds. She drew a long breath while she was pressed against him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to assure herself that he was still here- still real even though it seemed impossible that he was. When they got back to Earth. It seemed like a far off hope, like shooting for the moon without any of that bullshit optimism of landing among the stars. “Then you can tell me the plan when we find a place that’s not suffocating us.” He wouldn’t have come without one, right? It was one thing to condemn himself to death, and she wouldn’t be entirely surprised given his generally self-sacrificing nature, whether that had been taught, was natural, or a combination of the two. But it was another entirely to forfeit the life of her as well by diving in without an extraction plan. He wouldn’t have risked the person he was saving.

The slaugh was worrisome enough as an omen of death, but there’d been more to consider when it’s eating of souls was brought into play. Nell still wasn’t all that sure whether she’d want to be raised from the dead in the first place should she perish in the next twenty-four hours, but if the slaugh ate her soul...she wouldn’t have a choice to begin with. You couldn’t raise a body without a soul.

Again Nell fell silent while she drank in as much as this as she could, the dread in her stomach a constant reminder of how far there still was to go. But with Adam- at least she stood a chance. With Adam they could at least sleep, taking varied watches. And then maybe some of her magic would come back and Adam could heal, and then...well then they’d at least have a fighting chance together, always stronger together. Nell used her fragile strength to bring herself to the tips of her toes, trying to press a gentle kiss to his black-veined cheek before feathering across his lips. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth,” she echoed, recognizing it as another promise they could hold between them. They’d go back to Earth together in the same way they’d fought the dolorphage, the way they’d faced an unknown future beneath the full moon all those months ago, and the same way they’d taken on a demon cult and lived to tell the tale— always together.

#// DON'T LOOK AT ME IM EMOTIONAL #as alwAYS tapir just gives me a GIFT of a chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:adam #hell's true north #sibling death tw #mass poisoning tw #parental death tw

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