The Sereni-Tree, the Immortals, the Octagonal Order, and the Harbringer of Darkness, Part 2
POSTED BY: TheRealMe
UPDATED: Thursday, December 21, 2006 13:42
VIEWED: 27358
PAGE 3 of 20
Sera was born in July 2. So, she's going on 5 months.
I can't keep track of you Zanzibarbarians!
And, isn't it silly I remember her birthday?
Serenity,
President of The Juggled Gosling Chatroom
Bride8
http://callmeserenity.livejournal.com/
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???????
Are you guys working on a different calendar? I could have sworn she wasn't born till after D*C...
Nevermind, but it does confirm that we're working to two different time frames - you're going in real time, while i'm working in narrative time.
which helps, because although the story is only a few days old, we really have BEEN HERE FOR MONTHS!!!!!
So if you'll excuse me, i'm going to be terribly ungracious one moment, and extricate myself from the plot by the most ungainly manner possible.
ic
Seryn turned from the guy greeting them and caught SR by the collar.
"Darling, as much fun as this has been, i'm tired, confused, growing increasingly round, not to mention short tempered. I have no idea what is going on, and can pretty much guarantee that even if I did, I would be of no use whatsoever."
*Snogs SR's socks off*
"So when you've managed to get you're self out of mortal peril, and other such larks, I shall be at home, eating strawberry's and gravy* and crying in a ridiculously hormonal way over rubbish romance novels."
*Walks off to a secluded spot, where no one can see the Nandi landing** and in less than an hour is back on the Tree*
*no kidding, this was actually one friends craving.
**and yes, for the purposes of this bit, the Nandi can be remote controlled.
Isn't sanity really a one trick pony, anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking! But when you're good and crazy...ooh hoo hoo hoo... the skys the limit!
http://www.myspace.com/seryndippyt
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Quote:
Originally posted by TheRealMe:
On the Sereni-Tree:
When Ath checks out the cockpit in the pilot dome on the bridge, he discovers that all of his “Invader Zim” action figures are missing, replaced by an extensive collection of Bruce Lee memorabilia. Also, all of the piloting displays have been reprogrammed to show their data exclusively in Mandarin Chinese. Glued to the console is a picture of a family of Asian descent, with five teenagers surrounding a middle-aged couple. One of the teenagers in the picture is clearly a younger image of the woman Ath knows as Quincey, Bride5.
OOC: Good to have you back, Ath!
Why do I get the feeling not everyone is?
"Invader's blood marches through my veins like giant radioactive rubber pants. The pants command me! Do not ignore my veins!"
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Yeah, so umm...where exactly are those figurines? I don't think we can exactly just hop on over to the nearest planet with a Suncoast. Not with everyone on Zanzibar fighting the Maybe-Not-So-Immortal-Immortals, anyway.
"Invader's blood marches through my veins like giant radioactive rubber pants. The pants command me! Do not ignore my veins!"
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Okay, Ath, I can tell you:
Quincey, otherwise known as Bride5, had a rivalry going with Ath for the position of pilot of the Sereni-Tree. Ath won, and populated the pilot dome with Invader Zim action figures.
However, due to Ath's long absence of late, Quincey has taken the liberty of taking over the pilot dome and putting her stuff there.
Ath will find his action figures in a cardboard box in a locker adjoining the bridge.
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“Ummm… Sir Luc?” Wisp is the first to break the shocked silence. “How do you feel?”
Sir Luc turns at the sound of Wisp’s voice. “I feel…” She pauses as if speaking is something new to her. “I feel! I feel it all!”
Sir Luc smiles and Grabs Wisps shoulders, her eyes shifting to violet for a moment, then back again.
“You were right! All your theories were correct! All humans host latent magical ability. All it needs is the right environment for it to surface. THIS is the right environment. The very air is charged with magic. Can you not see it? It is everywhere and in everything. In fact, if you concentrate, you can reach out a touch a specific ability. Our bodies just filter, so to speak, and adapt the magic to our unique physiologies. That is why everyone has a different ability, when in reality it’s all just the same. The immortals have been able to filter less of it so they have more access to the whole.” She locks eyes with Sir Devan, “It is fascinating...”
Releasing Wisp, she surveys the room thoughtfully. “I want to test out my new found powers. I just need a subject. Let us start with the immortal that is the weakest. Hmmm...”
Sir Luc squints, examining the air in front of her. The kaleidoscope of colours in her eyes, changes to white only. She reaches out gingerly and pinched the air.
“Ah HA! I’ve got you!” Sir Luc pulls back her hand while using her other hand to brace herself against an invisible wall.
To all she looks like she has discovered the talent of Miming.
A thin wisp of smoke follows her pinched fingers. The further back she draws her hand the more pronounced the smoke becomes until Krysta stands before her.
Before Krysta can act, Sir Luc's eyes shift to violet and Krysta turns and drops to one knee, as if forced, bowing to Sir Luc.
Wisp’s elation at his success falters a bit when he catches the shark-like smile that briefly flashes across Sir Luc’s face.
OOC: In case my writing hasn’t conveyed my ideas clearly, the colour of sir Luc’s eyes represents the Immortals ability that she is currently using. See TRM’s Summary.
_______________________________________________________________
"Got a headful of lightning
And a heart full of rain
And I know that I said
I'd never do it again
Oh and I love you sweet baby but I always take the long way home."
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In the hidden keep of the Octagonal Order, on Zanzibar:
The Immortal Krysta falls to one knee before Sir Luc and bows her head of white, spiky hair. Her lips move, expelling fog, but only Sir Luc can hear her: “Mistress! I live to serve you! What is your desire?”
While Sir Luc contemplates her many desires, she suddenly becomes aware of a small bit of magic nearby. It is carefully hidden by powerful wards and anti-scrying spells, but it is there! It cannot hide from Luc!
Luc sends forth her awareness to encompass the entire large chamber. There it is! Hidden among the many ancient techno-constructs is a small, floating silvery eye, an eye belonging to Arinda the Violet. The Empress had been watching everything that transpired here!
Luc laughs.
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In the Castle of the Immortals, on Zanzibar:
Alatariel the Lurker entered the council room of the Imperial castle. She strove to keep her paces slow and stately, despite her urge to rush. Once again, she was dressed in her slinky black gown with a minimum of silver decoration.
Almost everyone was there, sitting around a large circular table. Arinda the Empress stood at her throne, gesturing angrily at Ouroboros as she berated him. He was nodding and bowing with downcast eyes, obsequious as always, offering excuses or scapegoats for his failures. Most of Arinda’s floating magical eyes were orbiting about him, examining him minutely. Her own physical eyes were closed, as always.
Adelle the Burner sat at her place, watching the exchange, eyes blazing. It was clear that she was furious.
Magnus the Maker looked nervous, as always, as he sat obediently waiting for his lady’s command. From his pudgy form dangled numerous enchanted weapons, talismans, and charms, all glowing visibly when viewed by Alatariel’s magesight. He was a walking arsenal of magical devices! Even his yellow-hued cloth robes were enchanted beyond the toughness of plate armor.
Zorander the Storm Caller sat at his place, seemingly bored. He watched the ceiling, or studied his hands. All the while breezes kicked up by his presence caused his great mane of blond hair and beard to swirl. His blue robes twisted about.
Karg the Bloody, his gigantic figure fully encased in his bright red plate armor, stood. His low, booming voice echoed from inside his great helm throughout the small chamber. “Your Majesty! Alatariel has arrived. Our number is complete!”
Alatariel stopped walking, puzzled. “Complete? But we are only seven. What of Krysta?”
“Krysta’s not coming,” Zorander said off-handedly.
All of Arinda’s floating silver eyes focused on Alatariel. “There is a New Power arisen, Alatariel. Have you not felt its presence in the Astral Plane? This Power surpasses that of any one of us. It may surpass us as a group. It has Taken Krysta, because THIS one abandoned her!”
Ouroboros cringed once again, but raised a finger and opened his mouth to speak.
“SILENCE!” Arinda bellowed. “I will hear no more excuses!”
Alatariel was upset. Krysta had been her sister, after all. “Taken?”
With Arinda’s attention now upon Alatariel, Ouroboros slinked over to his chair and sat down.
Arinda motioned for Alatariel to be seated. “Krysta the Whisperer is fully under the control of this new Power. She is our enemy now. She will work for our destruction, willingly, gleefully! I have seen this.”
Alatariel was stunned. “But… with your magic, could Your Majesty not recover her?”
“I could not!” Arinda stated. This New Power is greater than I.”
“We need a plan,” suggested Adelle.
“My army even now marches on the keep of the Octagonal Order!” Karg bellowed.
Adelle sneered. “We need an INTELLIGENT plan! Your troops will be squashed easily by the New Power. Any one of US could do so, after all.”
Karg’s great chest expanded as he took a deep breath. He slowly let it out as he turned to face Adelle. His voice was low and rumbled with menace. “And I suppose that YOU have a better idea?”
“I do!” Adelle responded confidently. She turned toward the Empress. “We must use every resource available to us if we are to face this New Power. It is time to utilize the Great Project.”
“Yes!” Arinda smiled, and turned to face Alatariel. “Alatariel, are you prepared to unleash the Great Project upon the world?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” she replied. Alatariel shuddered to herself. The Great Project was not NEARLY ready!
“Good! Do so!” Mentally, Arinda called for her chancellor. She could feel his mortal mind recoil under the onslaught of hers, but he quickly moved to obey. The time had come to delve into the powers of the Dreamer’s Stone. The dangers of that dark path were no longer significant compared to this new threat.
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Later, in the secret laboratory tower of the Immortal Alatariel the Lurker:
Chicken-man Number 2 wringed his hands even as he clutched the umbrella that was his badge of office. His voice trembled as he spoke. “M-mistress? D-do you really think this is S-safe?”
“Of course,” Alatariel replied confidently. “Continue!” She had privately calculated that there were at best two chances in five that this plan would work. She chose to not share this information with her subordinates.
Number 2 nodded, gulped, and called down orders to the workers below. Eight other chicken-men servants, all that had remained loyal out of her batch of twenty-one, grunted and groaned in an effort to turn a massive crank. Slowly, the bar restraining the huge doors retracted.
Alatariel carefully prepared the binding spell. “Come…” she began.
The Great Project smashed through the doors. The creature was huge, some unholy blend of human, dragon, and demon. It began spitting out large gouts of flame upon the screaming chicken-men. The few left alive attempted to scatter.
With great concentration and hands gesturing before her, Alatariel cast the binding spell with which to control the Great Project. As if in response, the creature’s great maw reached up and snapped near where she stood, completely devouring a cringing Number Two and half of the balcony. The remainder of the balcony promptly collapsed, dropping Alatariel two floors to the courtyard below. The monstrous creature turned to where she now lay, bloody and broken.
Abandoning any further attempts at control, Alatariel the Lurker made a sweeping gesture with one arm and completely vanished into the shadows.
Confused, the Great Project next turned its attention back upon the remaining chicken-men, tossing them one by one into its mouth like popcorn. When no more remained to be consumed, the Great Project bellowed wrathfully and applied its anger to the walls of Alatariel’s laboratory keep. The stone structure collapsed completely to rubble, and the howls of the Great Project and the screams of its victims could be heard for miles around as it left and began to burninate the countryside.
As her bleeding stopped and her broken bones straightened and re-knitted themselves, Alatariel sent a mental message to Arinda the Empress: Your Majesty, the Great Project has been deployed.
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Among the ruins of Alatariel’s laboratory / keep, on Zanzibar:
Before long, Alatariel struggled to her feet and attempted to cover herself with the tatters of her gown. It was too bad that she didn’t have garments that regenerated as easily as her body. Oh, well. Perhaps she could commission something more durable from Magnus.
As Alatariel departed the pile of rubble that used to be her tower, a shadowy figure moved to where she had fallen and lay bleeding. It bent down to collect some of her blood and sealed it in a jar. It was the rebellious chicken-man, Number 6, finally freed from his prison.
All around Number 6 began to gather whatever experiments of Alatariel survived the destruction of her tower.
Number 6 climbed a large stone to address them all. "It seems that the tables have turned," 6 said to the crowd of monsters. "Are you all prepared to strike back against our tormentors?"
As one, the group yelled, nodded, waved appendages, or gurgled enthusiastically.
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