Re: The Open Door (megacrossover)
Posted: 2008-12-24 01:30pm
by MichaelAwesome
Please don’t use Marvel, or DC, or any of those over-commercialized American comics. It’d distract from tone and flavor of the story, that off-beat “casual discussion of Armageddon” that we’ve come to love.
Said cosmic key doesn’t have to be powerful beyond its ability to open and close the gates to the rest of the multiverse, or that others would recognize its importance. If it was too obvious, the key would be in constant danger of discovery. Some ignorant monkey might be using it as a paperweight or worn like a piece of jewelry like that cat from the “Men in Black” movie. Or it could be so large that it could be mistaken for a planetary mass.
It doesn’t even have to be tangible, like the Artifact from “Eureka.”
And just because it’s a non-living object doesn’t mean that it can’t be hidden inside a living being, like how the Hogyoku “Breakdown Sphere” was placed in Rukia Kuchiki of the “Bleach” series (chainsword zanpakuto!), or how Kyuubi no Kitsune was sealed within Naruto Uzumaki.
The cosmic key doesn’t even have to be old. If the key was somehow destroyed or rendered unusable, that reality’s failsafe programming might try to recreate the key in another form. Some poor mortal might be compelled by forces beyond his understanding to build an object or item that may seem harmless or unimportant until its completion. In the “Hellraiser” series, the Merchant family is the descendants of the inventor who created the Lament Configuration and is haunted by dreams that form them to build machines in an attempt to seal away what they had unleashed into the world. Similar concepts were explored in
“the X-Files” series, where the mere IDEA of something is so metaphysically powerful that it echoes in subconscious minds of all sentient beings.
Hope that helps you out, good sir!
Re: The Open Door (megacrossover)
Posted: 2008-12-26 04:43pm
by Academia Nut
Chapter Fifty-seven: Learning to Foxtrot
The devil Akrak crouched down while carefully sniffing at the dead soil about the edge of the dead magic zone created by the destruction of the avatars of two gods. Crumbling the blasted material between his clawed fingers, the cornugon considered his options. This had been a dead end as far as the actual objective was concerned, but he should probably report back to Asmodeus anyway, if only so that the information could be disseminated back out to the other trackers.
There had been surprisingly few devils who knew how to find something without the use of magic. Their target was especially problematic in that they couldn’t even look for holes in their ability to see things as the effect was more a case of their scrying slipping off the target than coming up with nothing.
Akrak on the other hand was an expert tracker in the Blood War, specializing in hunting down demons trying to cover their tracks magically while running across the planes. Akrak was good, not just at following physical signs, but at tracking the paths of rumour and hearsay. He could bring order to a mess of information, making him also an effective spymaster, even if his greatest talents still lay in tracking.
Straightening up, he looked over at one of his barbazu grunts and said to the glaive wielding devil, “Return to the portal. Tantras and all leads heading there relates to a fight between Torm and Bane.”
Nodding, the lesser devil disappeared with a crack of air as he teleported away.
Looking back at his assembled squads, he noted their crisp professionalism as they kept up a perimeter around the destroyed area for their commander to examine. There were still survivors in the city, either those under fourteen summers or those who did not worship the sentimental fool Torm, but they were all under strict orders from Asmodeus himself to only scout.
He had made it very clear that the lives and souls of a few mortals, even a few thousand, were inconsequential next to finding their objective, that running was preferable to fighting unless there was no choice in the matter and any devil that disobeyed his orders would answer to him. Personally.
The harvesting of souls would come later. Vengeance for past wrongs would come free. Even the conflicts of the Blood War would come later. For now finding the being known as Skuld was the only thing.
Brushing off his hands, he said, “Flyers, take to the sky once more. Land scouts, disperse.”
With a series of cracks the squads all began to disperse, the flyers teleporting high into the air and miles away while the land scouts dispersed across the entire world of Toril once more. Primary activity was in northern Faerun, but Akrak refused to rule anything out. Especially considering the fact that many divine avatars had access to teleportation magic and were not limited in the same way as mortals.
With a crack of displaced air of his own, Akrak too teleported out of Tantras.
Simalessent had watched with narrowed, hateful eyes as the devils kept watch around the ruins of the battlefield between the two gods. While her original mission of seducing a paladin of Torm away from good and law was now rather moot as he was dead along with his god in the conflict, this was a rather interesting bit of information. The devils had a portal somewhere in Faerun and were carrying out an operation sufficiently important that they had not attempted to attack and enslave the undefended town.
Sneaking back into the city, the succubus descended into her hidden lair where she had weathered out first the large number of paladins and good aligned clerics in Tantras and then the appearance of an avatar followed by the conflict. She had already snatched up a human babe left abandoned when its mother had died to fuel Torm’s attack on Bane, originally to reinforce her nearly shattered wards, but now she would take the blood and entrails from the little one and craft a different spell.
Having finished draining out the life fluid from the child, she casually tossed the tiny corpse in a corner to snack on later. Gazing into the large black iron chalice, she slowly stirred about the blood while whispering the sibilant incantations of a spell to reach across the planes. While the blasphemous magical construct took place, the chaotic energies of the Abyss interacted strangely. It was said that visions of possible futures could be seen in the blood, and so a smart demon always kept a careful eye what was reflected within, aside from the fact that it was never smart to not pay attention to a spell.
Curiously Simalessent saw nothing. It wasn’t the nothing of the spell not working, but rather a more fundamental nothing. It was the nothing that remained after an incredible amount of destruction had been visited upon a place. As a demon, Simalessent liked that sort of devastation, but since she wasn’t exactly sure where it was, she would prefer it to be the future of some good aligned plane or one of the Nine Hells, at the very least the realm of a rival demon.
Eventually though the image cleared and revealed a being that would have looked human if not for his obsidian black skin and the little horns that jutted out of over his glittering green eyes. Lounging casually on his throne, one six fingered hand draped over his perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles and the other idly toying with his greatsword, the demon lord Graz’zt looked back through the surface of the blood at Simalessent.
“My lord! I did not expect to contact you so directly,” Simalessent grovelled. It was not wise to interrupt a demon lord when they had underlings for that sort of thing.
“Be still your heaving chest my minion, I drew the spell to me specifically. Something has happened near your location and I wish to know more. So tell me my dear, tell me what has occurred,” Graz’zt said with a honeyed voice.
“My lord, I had barely arrived to begin my mission when the very avatar of Torm showed up and I was forced into hiding to avoid my presence being detected. My target unfortunately now lies dead and un-damned, his god having drawn the souls of his worshippers from their bodies to fuel a spell used to slay the avatar of Bane,” Simalessent explained.
Waving it off, Graz’zt said, “A pity. My divinations had suggested something like this might have happened and perhaps if your target had been drawn to the Abyss instead of his fool of a god the spell would not have been quite as effective. Still, the loss of both the tyrant and the paladin has injured the cause of law greatly even if good probably came off slightly better in the balance, so my cause is advanced regardless.”
Nodding, Simalessent said, “Yes, but there is something else. Shortly before I called up a contingent of devils surveyed the wreckage of the battle between the gods. There were many of them, at least a full Blood War scout platoon, and they were looking for something.”
Graz’zt’s features remained beautiful as always, but now they were schooled into a scowl that would cause weaker mortal men to cringe and women to swoon at his passions. “Devils? Did you find any indication what they were looking for?”
“I did not my lord, but they seemed dismayed. I think that they have a permanent, or at least semi-permanent, portal established to this realm and are quite possibly part of a larger operation. It seems to have something to do with the gods though, and they were in such a hurry they failed to attack the mortals in the city,” Simalessent explained.
His expression settling into something a similar to curiosity with a touch of boredom, he ran a thumb across his jaw before he mused, “Curious… most curious. That spider-bitch Lolth has been making noise, attempting to contact the demon lords from her exiled position. She is talking a great deal about finding someone and is making implications that it would be greatly worth our while to join her in some plot of hers. If the devils are seeking something in the same area…”
Graz’zt let the line of thought free to percolate in the minds of those watching, which almost certainly included a number of his courtiers Simalessent could not see.
“Thank you my servant, I shall have to think about this new, valuable information more carefully, especially as some of Lolth’s own treacherous offspring have been leaking me new information. Apparently the spider-bitch is not quite as lovely as she once. A pity. I shall have to see whether I will laugh at her disfigurement or step in as a gentleman and help avenge her,” Graz’zt said with a grin before he waved his hand and the spell was ended at his side.
Upon the Plane of Shadow the Shade Enclave continued on its millennial journey through the dark realm as it had for the better part of seventeen hundred years, but for the past several tendays the inhabitants had encountered a rather disturbing problem. The regular Weave had been disrupted, but the Shadovar had redundancy in the Shadow Weave… except that the Shadow Weave was behaving strangely.
For the arcanists who had learned to manipulate the essence of shadow, those who worshipped Shar were completely and utterly stripped of their powers, the Shadow Weave seemingly now offended by her presence in their minds while they tried to cast any spells. The more atheistic mages on the other hand were capable of drawing on their powers as they always had. In fact, they reported that their abilities had been improving, the dark magic they practiced less unwilling and jealous than before.
The High Prince and his sons were justifiably worried over this turn of events. In the same way an adventurer faced with an inhaling red dragon is worried about hot air.
And now there was a strange stirring in the population, as sensitive souls began to have their sleep troubled by strange dreams. For days hundreds had stayed up when their bodies had told them to sleep, unidentified impulses gnawing at them. Already some had taken to expressing their dreams physically.
A smith renown for his particularly artistic and masterfully crafted blades was found staring at a crudely forged pipe with the trigger mechanism of a crossbow jammed in one end while muttering, “It means something.”
A scholar with a poetic bent was discovered having scrawled strange symbols on dozens of sheets of parchment and got ink everywhere, destroying many valuable documents in his mad attempt to commit an unspeakable idea to paper.
A labourer picked up a chisel and a hammer and defaced a stone pillar, creating a strange work of unearthly, perverse beauty, of a woman and a strange creature that looked vaguely like the unholy offspring of a sahuagin, an aboleth, and a mind flayer. The creature was either attacking the woman or…
Most people who saw it really hoped she was being attacked, and those who thought otherwise were keeping their mouth shut. Especially since those that thought otherwise
Already though the Whispered, as they were calling themselves now, were meeting secretly, finding out like-minded individuals. The Netherese had never had any particular fervour for the gods as a people, and the same continued with the Shadovar. Shar was useful, but she was not the end all and be all for the majority of the people.
But for the Whispered, Shar had never had a place in their hearts. No, that dark goddess had never held sway over them, but they had learned of her ways from years of coexisting with her followers and they were now applying those lessons to their new focus. They knew if the Sharrans caught them they would be thrown off the city to die either on impact or from exposure in the shadowy wilds, at the very least, but they had a new Dark Lady.
Dreams of impossible things, terrible things danced in their heads, and they spoke in hushed voices to those they felt shared their visions. Their rituals were as crude as they were skulking and secretive, little more than madmen and women jotting down symbols and words they could not understand while trying to string together syllables to create words to explain concepts that had yet to be given names.
The Whispered swung through strange moods, unaware of what was truly happening to them. Those with children found sudden, almost excessive fondness for their offspring while women Whispered often found their sexual appetites growing out of control. Only one Whispered, a scholarly sorcerer with a little bit of experience beyond the Plane of Shadow had any sort of explanation.
Washal the Pale felt that there was a new goddess of shadow, a usurper over Shar. He had yet to actually voice this view, but it seemed reasonable to him. More than that though, the dreams of this new goddess were spilling out into the Shadow Weave, and those that were not already sworn to Shar but still sensitive to the magic were picking up whispers of those dreams.
Washal looked down in incomprehension at a string of symbols scholars on another world would call the Schrödinger Equation. To him the strange glyphs had been driving him mad for days, seeking expression, but even now that he had taken them from his mind and physically manifest them, he had no idea what they meant.
He and the other Whispered though were starting to piece together something rather incredible though. Hidden in an alien alphabet was a numerology that their dreams promised could let them shatter mountains or fly between the stars if they desired. They had already pieced a tiny fraction of it together, the first piece in a long chain of knowledge.
Washal knew of math, every arcanist knew that it was far more useful than the simple transactions peasants and merchants used it for, but he had no idea how much of it was hidden beneath the surface of things.
Their new goddess would show them.
Beneath the streets and upon the outskirts of Waterdeep, an extraordinarily powerful being danced amongst her followers, celebrating another day of existence. Achingly beautiful, the only material she allowed to conceal any part of her night dark skin was her own flowing moon silver hair.
However the spinning, ever flowing dance was interrupted by an unexpected interruption in the form of a slow, sarcastic clapping.
Breaking apart in confusion, the worshippers of Eilistraee moved to protect their goddess, only for Eilistraee herself to move them out of the way, stating, “You cannot face this one.”
Chuckling, Vhaeraun said, “No, they can’t sister.”
“What do you want brother?” Eilistraee demanded.
“Just to pass along a bit of information. Mother is rallying her children and followers and all of her contacts amongst the demons. She is pulling in every favour and burning through every contact. It’s quite impressive really, if sad. She even went so far as to send an emissary to my location during our exile, promising reconciliation if I joined her. I rebuffed the offer, but in a way meant to indicate that I am merely holding out for a better deal,” Vhaeraun stated.
Narrowing her eyes, Eilistraee demanded, “Why are you telling me this?”
Smirking beneath his mask, Vhaeraun replied, “Because I have other contacts that give me a fuller story. You see my associate Shar has allied with mother for her own reasons and has let me in on what mother is so angry about. There is a godling running about that somehow managed to maim our dear sweet mother in a rather delicate location while also pissing off Shar. Massively pissed off Shar as she is offering a small cut of the Shadow Weave to any god that joins her and capturing the target. I plan on joining them both, but I have no renewed love for mother. And since I neither have love for you nor father…”
“You tell me knowing that father cannot allow an alliance between mother and Shar to go unchecked in the hopes that we will all end up killing each other,” Eilistraee concluded.
“The simplest plans are the best, don’t you agree?” Vhaeraun noted sarcastically before he disappeared into the shadows.
“Accursed assassin playing all sides against each other while he stands in the centre untouched,” Eilistraee spat. Looking about her followers, she said, “Come, we have much to do.”
Malar lounged quietly on a rock, still smarting from the wounds inflicted upon him by that bastard Nobanion in driving him out. His faithful lounged about him with equal quiet, but that was because they did not want to trigger a storm of wrath from their furious lord. It was unwise to poke a wolf while it was licking its wounds.
Of course, someone did.
Hidden up high in the trees, a figure cloaked in shadows whispered just loudly enough for the Beastlord’s incredibly sharp hearing to pick up, “Pathetic.”
His ears twitching, the blood thirsty deity immediately sprang into action, leaping from his stone to the perch up in the tree and shredded the branches with furious swipes of his powerful claws. The figure however had already moved to another tree.
“Poor, poor Malar. Still smarting from that thrashing you got? If only your rivals could see you now,” the hidden figure taunted.
Crushing a branch beneath his claws, Malar restrained the urge to scream and leap at the source of the sound. He was savage, but he was smart enough not to be played for a fool like this. He would track down this interloper and make a necklace of his guts.
“Loviatar sends her regards,” the figure said before flicking something into the clearing. Malar’s worshippers all sprang at the location the object had originated from, but the Beastlord knew that the quarry had already left so he immediately dropped down to the bit of bait left behind.
And it was bait. Malar knew a trap when he saw one. But he was supremely pissed at the moment, and more than that, turning a trap upon itself was a particular joy, so if he could figure out the game being played, he could rip and tear his tormentor while turning the tables.
The object was a small brass tube, closed off and flattened at one end. It was the product of some civilized creature, but Malar found it fascinating as there were several interesting scents attached to it. The inner side of the tube held an acrid stench to it, of something burning, while the outside had the smell of being handled by several divinities. His tormentor had been clever enough to mask his own scent, but there at least two female divinities that had handled it within the past few tendays.
Inhaling more deeply, Malar noted something else. His divine senses were dulled in this avatar state, but he could still smell that there was something wrong. It was like his mind kept slipping over something. Pushing aside all of his rage, he focused completely on that scent. He had it right there in front of him, he just had to focus.
With a sudden stroke of insight, he broke through and discovered the scent. It was… female and divine, but it had a touch of something else to it. It also had the touch of shadows. Shar! That bitch! It didn’t actually smell like Shar had in the past, but she was the only one with the sort of imprint of shadows that this.
The tormentor had mentioned something about Loviatar. Malar was uncivilized and had little to do with his fellow deities, but he did pay attention to the shifting politics and tides of power amongst his rival packs. Loviatar was allied with that scheming empire builder Bane, but she had associated with the Lady of Loss in the past. If something had changed the balance of power, such as the death of the bastard, then perhaps Loviatar would fall under the sway of Shar.
There were wheels within wheels spinning here, something that Malar hated. He was being played for the fool, something he really hated. But he would track down this scent, the creator of this strange object and discern the nature of this hunt.
He and his followers would then feast upon the entrails of their foes.
The gods were forbidden from returning to their divine domains, but there was mortal level magic that they had easy access to that would allow them to travel quickly across the material world. Stepping out of the darkness, Vhaeraun grinned at Shar and said, “It is done. It took some time to get organized, but in short order the best trackers on Faerun, the elven hunters and the beasts of Malar, will be hunting our quarry for us.”
“Excellent work drow. Your mother would be proud of your duplicity,” Shar commented.
“So long as we keep this a little secret between us, I am glad to help. We just need to wait for someone to find our foes and then unleash mother upon them. I do hope that father finds the mark first but mother arrives before him. The bloodshed should draw in Malar, and then we can sweep in and put down all of our enemies when they have weakened each other. I get my arrogant father and idiotic mother, Loviatar gets that brute Malar, and you Shar get the usurper. We all win,” Vhaeraun said with a smile.
“That we do,” Shar replied.
Both deities looked at each other and wondered at how easy it was to manipulate the other.
Re: The Open Door (megacrossover)
Posted: 2008-12-26 08:16pm
by TheClueless
Academia Nut wrote:As to the whole no losses thing, they're too small to get into any fight where they could lose, but they can, have, and will suffer setbacks. A culture of "We can shrug off any adversity and come back stronger" is better than "We are invincible and undefeatable!"
Agreed.
In just about every scene with Neo-Chaos' gods - even in just high-level underlings with half a clue - one theme has (explicitly, or not) always been present. "Can we keep them from following us home and destroying us all?"
I sometimes like to think of Neo-Chaos' combat philosphy as that of a 3.5 DnD Rogue. Namely lots of backstabs. And if the paladin and/or fighter survives? Use stealth and evasion, and wait for another (good) chance to backstab them.
Neo-Chaos currently controls two worlds : Neo-Chaos-Earth (and it's solar system), and Asukhon's Daemon World (in the SG-1 verse). Even counting allies like Kyon, and (knowing and unknowing) followers (in the SG-1 verse), they don't have *nearly* the resources (and territory) to be able to afford *real* stand-up fights with anyone that they can't simply crush like a bug. For example, despite the fact that the "anti-Warp" fields the C'tan have set up would (to various degrees) cripple the Imperium of Mankind and Chaos (from the WH40K verse), keeping either of them from learning the location of Neo-Chaos' home is pretty much the highest priority of Rong-Arya's new mission.
IMO, the only reasons that Neo-Chaos isn't imitating a turtle (when it comes to pan-dimensional travel/exploration) are: 1) the C'tan, and 2) Tzintchi's gut instinct.
Even with surprise, and angel-derived technology, Neo-Chaos' victory over the C'tan/Necronty is *not* (IMO) a sure thing. Exploring the multiverse (even just the parts inside Chaotic Space) offers three potential benefits to Neo-Chaos. It gives them a chance to blood the troops in real combat situations, and to field test equipment and tactics/strategies. It gives them a chance to discover new things (weapons tech, materials that can't be found in their own solar system, ect...) that could be of use against the C'tan/Necrontyr. And it gives Neo-Chaos a chance to develop fall-back positions; so if they end up loosing the war against the C'tan/Necrontyr, they're choices won't simply be "slavery" or "extermination".
At least one previous mention has also been made (when Tzintchi decided to dick around with the Stiletto) to the fact that Tzintchi is getting a bad gut feeling. Like *something* is soon (for a certain value of "soon") going to happen to the multiverse - or at least Chaotic space - and that Neo-Chaos won't simply be able to safely sit it (whatever "it" *is*) out. So he's decided to get more information on the multiverse, even if it means risking some pieces on the board.
Also, the "Dancing the Charlie Foxtrot" chapters will be perhaps a taste of what happens when you try and crash a number of enemies into each other for your own gain.
I was wondering if the "Foxtrot" in the latest chapter's title refered to this (unofficial) military term. Thanks for confirming it.
In other words Shar and Vhaeraun (and possibly others involved in the hunt for Lars and Skuld) are all but *begging* Murphy to notice them and their plots.
You know, come to think of it, that could be part of the Bug's portfolio, if he does become a god. Not only spiders, but the "Murphy's Law" subsect of (small "c") chaos. Which makes sense since his ally/superior (Skuld) is/will be the goddess of non-evil secrets (including scientific knowledge).
