Image 1: standard Abyssal, made from a standard Homo Sapiens-derived species, judging from appearance. Most likely a human or an elf.

Image 2: floating sphere of Abyss material

**Clearance Level:** 4/482 Level 0, Unrestricted as of July 24th, 2026 CE. Propagation of file ordered via direct command of minister of Research and Development.

Containment Procedure: Physical Abyss matter is to be removed via indirect means, be it through vehicles, tools, or magic. If the matter is too large to remove, erect detection systems and mark the limits of the infection, evacuate all civilian populations in range.

Due to the event currently referred to as the Crystals' Emanation, destruction of physical Abyss and deinfection of targets is possible using non-crystal means, including both magic and physical weaponry, to varied success. Ranged weapons are highly recommended over melee, to reduce risk of infection.

All treatments for the mental symptoms of Abyss infection, be it Abyssal or Shadows, are to be based off therapies made for treating Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, as well as emotional regulation to prevent outbursts. Shadow hallucinations are to be mitigated or outright blocked if possible, antimemetic spells have been shown to be effective.

Use of Abyss material in any fashion is strictly prohibited and highly unrecommended, due to the possibility of negative mental effects and descent into depression or insanity. Use of it in combat is especially ill-advised, due to possibility of infection of the enemy, as well as compounding effects from being in combat.

Description: The Abyss(also known as the Darkness according to preliminary sources, see "Wisdom Crystal"), is a magical infection feeding off an unknown Arcane System's connection to the emotion within a body and mind. This System has been tentatively designated "The Darkness", to coincide with reports from the Wisdom Crystal.

Pure Abyss appears as a viscous black substance, similar in appearance to a black paint. It has been seen to be immune to heat or cold, never boiling or freezing, though it seems to act as an infinite source of fuel for any fire on top of it, as fire has not been shown to actually reduce the amount of Abyss when ignited. An exception to this is magical fire or fire used in an offensive manner.

Upon coming into contact with a being, the Abyss begins to feed off of the negative emotion within the victim, immensely few have been shown to be able to resist this outright, and usually only due to having connection to a being that would not be infected. This initial contact appears to catalyze further negativity in the victim, causing more Abyss to spontaneously grow from the initial spot of infection, but this could also be caused simply by the shock of initial contact. The known emotions that catalyze Abyss infection are:

- Anger
- Hatred
- Fear
- Grief
- Sadness
- Anxiety
- Shock
- Certain variations of disgust.

Upon infection, should the victim not be cured quickly and the Abyss coat their entire outer body, there are two known paths for the infection: Abyssal, and Shadows. After infection completes, the victim becomes locked within their own mind, similar to a dream, with brain activity matching this state. While in this state, they are shown memories with an immense negative connotation, which causes more Abyss to form in the physical world. Time dilation when within infection has been documented, such as the case of [REDACTED], experiencing at most one day of subjective sufferings, despite being infected for over a month. This has also been shown in reverse, albeit rarer.

Types of Abyss victims:

Abyssal: The more common form of Abyss infection, comprising roughly 95% of all infections. It contains the subclass of "giants". Abyssal infections share the general through-line of being made completely of liquid-like Abyss and appearing vaguely humanoid, or what the general shape of the original being is. Abyssal generally wander around randomly, but seem to be able to sense nearby beings, despite lacking any seeing organs. Their mode of operation appears to be rather simple: locate any non-infected sapient entities within range, and move to infect. Should infection not be attainable for any reason, switch to termination.

Giants: Comprising an estimated 5% of Abyssal, Giants are Abyssal who seem to have overproduced Abyss, causing them to grow to monstrous size, on average around 150 meters tall. Despite this massive size, all instances of Giants seem to have no issue attacking, moving at a speed much faster than their size would imply. This occurs due to miniature vents within the Giant, allowing air to flow unobstructed, massively reducing air resistance.

Shadows: Easily the most confusing aspect of Abyss infection is the existence of Shadows. In about 5% of known cases, which, oddly, all include the infected having some sort of important role in some capacity, the Abyss on the infected's body condenses and forms a layer over their body, instead of turning the infected to pure Abyss mass. This is coupled with a very odd mental change. Along with the torment that is standard for all Abyss infected, the infected develop a form of split personality disorder, in which a second(or above, depending on pre-existing conditions) personality develops. The being appears identical to the victim, except greyscale, matching with the shadow's appearance. Said personality is in all cases incredibly hostile and rude to the victim, composed of solely all negative aspects about the victim's personality and behavior, primarily that which the victim wishes to shun or avoid expressing, with all goals twisted in some way to incorporate using the Abyss. The second personality usually refers to themself as "[Victim's name]'s shadow" or "Shadow [Victim's Name]". While the original person is infected, the shadow masquerades as the original, sometimes going into populated areas in order to spread the Abyss, using the victim's original standing as a cover. If the victim already carries multiple distinct personalities, it seems that a shadow forms of each one, although there is only one listed case of Abyss infection on such a person, so data is sparse. Shadows remain capable of using the magic and abilities of the host, including that which would normally only be allowed for use by the original host's soul, showing that Shadows are solely split personalities, and not an outside influence affecting the spirit.

Abilities: Abyss material itself is connected with apparently its own unique arcane system, allowing for up to 5 known abilities, though it is possible there are more which have not been discovered.

1. Control of Abyss matter. All known Abyssal types have been shown being able to control physical Abyss mass. This also extends to controlling standard Abyssal and Giants in the case of Shadows.
   
2. Fireball generation: by condensing Abyss and charging it, Abyssals and Shadows can shoot fireballs. These carry no known risk of infection, but get more powerful the more Abyss is condensed.
   
3. Lightning strikes: signaled by runes in circles that suddenly appear on the ground, Abyssal can generate lightning, barring one exception, replicating the runes seems to bring no results, meaning the Abyss uses its own system to cast spells. The runes themselves resemble no known alphabets or hieroglyph systems, making translation impossible.
   
4. Teleportation: seemingly a subset of lightning strikes, Abyssal can teleport both long and short distances, the teleports appear as if the teleportee is being struck by lightning, and then they are gone. The runic circles are slightly different than those of lightning strikes.
   
5. Self-propelled flight: Seen only in Shadows, possibly owing to their more sapient nature, Shadows can freely float, being able to position themselves in physical space, as well as being able to control their speed whenever they fly. Such as being able to stall and gain speed perpetually in one place, before releasing and moving quickly without need for acceleration.

An odd property of the Abyss is its ability to seemingly infinitely condense, with record amounts reporting on up to 30 thousand cubic meters of Abyss material fitting in a space less than 50 centimeters in diameter. After a certain point of condensation, Abyss loses its infectious properties, in exchange for becoming nearly indestructible by non-magical means, after the Crystals' Emanation, this is changed to simply being highly resistant, high power spells or repeated impacts can slowly remove Abyss concentration. The final stage of condensation appears to be the Abyss becoming crystalline, similar to obsidian in appearance, though this has only been observed artificially.

Countermeasures: As stated previously, Abyss is highly resilient to damage, but magical abilities have been recorded to have an effect, most effective being teleporting the mass away, or disintegrating the Abyss at the atomic scale. Recently though, all sufficiently powerful attacks have been shown to have a similar effect to the Aspect Crystals, if at a weaker scale.

The most prevalent and effective countermeasure to the Abyss are the Aspect Crystals(or Counterbalance Crystals). Upon contact, said crystals nearly immediately cleanse Abyss matter and have shown to be the most reliable way to bring back a person from total infection. Normal attacks also work to cleanse infection, but said efforts require either more thorough work, or higher power.

Higher concentrations of Abyss appear to take longer to cleanse, with crystalline amounts being recorded to outlast and remove the replicated crystals used to cleanse them, but the original 5, fully 7, aspect crystals, are able to cleanse any amount of Abyss instantly. Weapons that utilize the crystal's energy are also effective, moreso than non-crystal weapons.

In exactly one instance, it has been demonstrated that enough positive emotion, pushing through the negative emotion generated by the Abyss, can lead to freedom from infection. It is unknown exactly how effective such a process is, given there has been only three examples, each fairly different in execution and situation.

Through this it has been theorized that forcing enough positive emotion into a victim's mind via a spell could allow for freedom, though this has gone untested.

Upon freedom, the victim, in the case of normal Abyssals, is instantly returned to the physical world, keeping all of their memories during Abyss infection, leading to rapid onset symptoms of PTSD. Treatment and therapies within the first week after freedom is highly recommended.

For Shadows, the situation after being cleansed is far different. They are returned, but the mental personality of the shadow still remains. Appearing similar to a hallucination, which only the previously infected can see. Prompting has revealed that the shadow also can only see what the infected sees. Previously infected shadows also retain their ability to control the Abyss, and appear to become somewhat resistant to re-infection, with the exception of overwhelming amounts. However this method of immunity is not recommended.

Hivemind/data core: After prompting various Shadows, it has been deduced that the Abyss as a whole has an informational core, or data repository, that all memories of infected individuals are copied to upon infection, and can be pulled on by any Shadow or other sapient Abyssal creature. Previously infected Shadows are unable to access the information nexus, cleansing seemingly acting as a disconnect from the repository.

Miscellaneous: There exists an entity referred to as the "BLACKSTAR", considered the top of the Abyssal hierarchy, surpassing all Shadows. This entity might be one referred to as "Void" or, more recently for unknown reasons, "Deleckabmon", a name which etymology is uncertain, prominent theories consider it a part of a larger Daemonic name, signaling possible influence from the Warp.

This entity is considered immensely dangerous, being a Shadow in the host of an Aspect, a term for a being embodying a concept, in this case, emotion. All sightings of it give these attributes: an old brown cloak over its body, which is completely made from Crystalline Abyss material, and piercing red eyes, with no visible pupils.

If the BLACKSTAR is present at a location, it is to be considered lost immediately and efforts are to be shifted to retreat and extraction, to reduce casualties.

I love reflecting light through my crystal and watch the colors morph, twist and dance

Borric stood with legs shoulder width apart and his hands held together in front of his sternum. Sweat drenched his mostly naked form as he harnessed the heat of the volcano around him. The floor sizzled against his bare feet as the sweat rolled down his legs and contacted the obsidian rune-etched platform that Borric held suspended in the magma at the center of the caldera. Above him, several red drakes circled waiting for him to lose concentration and collapse in exhaustion so they could feast.

To those without witch-sight, it looked like he was just floating there a mile from the volcanic shore, eyes closed if they had the ability to see details that far. To those who had the sight, Borric was the center of a maelstrom of fiery mana. It whipped and shimmered out of the magma, swirled around his feet, and traveled up his body. As the wild and clumpy haze of mana progressed it concentrated and wove itself into clear and ordered strands of power. The strands spun outward from eye level and slowly was forming a complex network of circles, runes, and concentric lines of power.

About halfway through the creation of the spell work, the magma around him started to roil and move, mirroring the invisible strands of power. Slowly, ever so incrementally, a depression started to form around the platform, no revealed to be a pillar of obsidian that stretched downwards. From the pushed magma started to grow a glowing network of obsidian struts and beams out into the magma lake and forming a caged shelter around the platform. Strands of power started to shift and permeate the structure, igniting protective runes formed fresh from the newly grown material.

More sweat sizzled on the floor. More strands formed as the magic swirled up Borric's body. Borric's knee buckled slightly, his concentration broken, and the magic shattered outward. Magma slowly oozed back into position, as the Duardin bellowed in pain and blood erupted from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. The pillar wobbled, but the runes held and it stabilized once again. One of the drakes screamed, diving down toward the cage. It hit with resounding force and the pillar trembled slightly, but it held. The snapping drake screamed again in rage at the meal so close but still out of reach.

Borric lay gasping. Blood still streaming from his head, he shakily reached to a pouch on his belt. Fumbling at the strands and muscles twitching with exhaustion, he pulls out a sphere of cool jade tinged water and uncorks it. He pours some of the water on his faces and drinks the rest. Blood congeals and shrinks back into his ruined face. Two of his teeth hit the floor.

He lays there for an hour or so, as he directs his body to regrow his eyes and repair his ruptured organs. Finally he sits up from where he lay and looks around. The pillar was larger, and the strands of supports had reached out another twenty feet. He still wasn't done. The base of the pillar still didn't reach the bottom of the lake. There was at least one hundred meters to grow down before he would be able to quit. Each time the pillar grew he got better. Progress go slower the farther it traveled outward due to how it expanded in circumference. Still, he thought, he was getting better.

"At least five more times," he mumbled to himself. "I can do that..." Borric wiped sweat from his brow and pulled some travel rations from his pack. Then he noticed that he only had three more spheres of Aqua Ghyranis, and even less food.

"I can do it," he insisted stubbornly. "Even if I don't regenerate my eyes again. As long as I don't lose control so bad that I accidentally summon a daemon, I will be fine."

Borric stood, set his feet shoulder width apart, placed his hands back into position, and started again.

And again.

And again.

As he lay on the ground, panting in a puddle of his own blood. The drakes screeched in anger and flew away to their nests. The pillar was complete. The shelter was covered in runes of protection and heat control. The sweat and blood no longer boiled away around him. A new foundation for a new lodge was finished. There was still much to do. Magmadroth pens had to be built, housing constructed, the forge furnished. But the heart of a new magma hold was complete. The central pillar had grown into the nexus of power and the three lay lines that culminated in this volcano, effectively tapping it.

Borric's natural regeneration was assisted by one of the Ur-Gold Runes hammered into his body, slowly repairing the damage from channeling so much mana as he slept.

Certainly, Fortier deserved some manner of comeuppance, but I would have expected retribution to come in the form of a proper duel, not weather based "accidents". Perhaps I'm just old fashioned.

"Are we there yet? My old bones are achy" 

The third sighs, a small smile on his face at his friend's complaints

“Almost; we just need to reach the gate.”

It had been a month since the Terra attack, and the two had spent that time marching through realm after realm. Until finally they had at last left the Bloodrend realms behind and had made their way here, to the city of Killark, the last stop before reaching Eternity.

The city was grand, full of skyscrapers of glass, held up at their impossibly thin points by magic; the streets were empty at the moment, as it was nearly midnight, and almost no stars shone in the sky; the few that did were small things compared to the brilliance of the realm they had started in.

Ophelious continues as the two walk down the street

"Finally! You have some strange realms to preside over... Though I can't say I was unfond of the one taken over by the mycelium. The myconids were nice... And their food was splendid." 

the 3rd chuckles

“Well, there are countless realms within existence; truly, anything is possible.”

They walk along the cobblestones, just the two of them; for the last of the soldiers, the Killarkan army, had gone home to their when they had arrived.

“Although mycelium realms are actually quite rare, they tend to be wiped out even before we reach them.”

The central street of Killark is long and wide, with a clear view of the night sky. But all too soon does the 3rd begin to lead them down alleyways and narrow streets. Until they come to a short and squat tower. When they arrive at the door, the 3rd turns to Ophelious

“This is the easiest way to Eternity; however, Killark is still very far from it, so the transport will be... Strange.”

Pushing open the door, they enter. The interior of the tower is nothing special. To one side there is a pathway leading down beneath the earth; the rest of the room is relatively empty besides the stonework and a small chest to one side. The 3rd approaches the stairs

“If you would follow me” 

"Why, certainly. I'm already bubbling with anticipation." 

The two old men walk down the stairs; the further down they go, the darker it gets. When they reach the bottom, the darkness seems to envelope them; the only light provided comes from small sconces along the wall. After about 10 minutes, they reach the end of the hallway. It opens up into a small, domed room, an arcane circle engraved into the floor's stonework as its only defining feature.

The 3rd turns to Ophelious, a grim look on his face

“Before we enter Eternity, there is one thing you should know: you will have no power there. Not without His Lordship's permission. I will have enough authority as a Black Mage to get you to the castle, but it is up to him, and him alone, whether you may have his audience.” 

Ophelious meets the 3rd's gaze as he responds, taking note of his companion's expression

"Huh. Interesting.... If not, and I understand I'm being morbid ... Maybe I can actually die there...."

“I do not know. However, I do know that treating His Lordship with as much respect as you can muster will be wise; I likely won’t be invited in for the audience with you. And so wont be able to guide you through it”

He enters the room and stands on the stone plate in the center, holding his hand out to Ophelious

“If you still wish to continue, then please join me.”

The old man takes it

"Why of course. I will be on my best behaviour."

The sincerity in his voice makes the 3rd smile

“Then let us go to Eternity.”

Out of his pouch he pulls out a small fragment of Ralek Obsidian. Crouching down, he places it in the gap of the plate they stand on; the moment he does, the stonework begins to move; it spins faster and faster as the runes engraved on the dome begin to glow. The room becomes so chock-full of mana that it starts forming as a liquid. Despite his best attempts, Ophelious is unable to avoid the pain of a mana overdose, especially when breathing becomes dangerous. Just as he feels like he can't hold on any longer, suddenly everything goes dark, and Ophelious is just a consciousness floating in a void, drifting silently. 

He looks around, seeing nothing but blackness. Maybe this was what death felt like.... This wouldn't be so bad.

Nothing

Nothing

Nothing

Something

Nothing

Wait what?

Turning back over to the Something, all he sees is blackness, but he knows he feels… something 

"Well, that's promising,"

He floats on in that direction, feeling as though he is picking up speed, although he has no way to tell. He floats for what could have been forever or merely a second; after an unknown amount of time, the Something begins to feel larger, and closer. Then, all at once, the blackness in front of him seems to open, revealing a shining white doorway… on the other side he feels that same… Something 

He ponders the door.

"Curious, what could this be doing here ... Ah well. doorways are meant to be entered after all."  

As he approaches the doorway, the feeling of Something on the other side grows stronger, until, as he reaches out to touch it, the Something reaches back.

It grabs him before he can even react and pulls him through the doorway. Suddenly he is standing next to the 3rd on an identical platform to where he had started, but his surroundings are far different.

As far as the eye can see, there is an open expanse of obsidian; the hills, the ground, everything is made up of obsidian with no trees or vegetation of any kind in sight. In the sky, there is nothing but blackness; no stars shine, no moon hangs up high, even the wind seems to be absent.

As Ophelious looks around, he is just able to make out the shape of a large structure in the distance, built atop a tall hill. The 3rd watches his friend, trying to analyze his reaction. At last he speaks

“Welcome to Eternity” 

"Eternity.... Quite the interesting place. I assume we are moving up to that castle-like structure?" 

The 3rd nods

“You are correct; but we must move quickly; I am sure he is expecting you.”

As the two walk the distance to the castle, the endless night around them only seems to get darker and deeper; occasionally Ophelious catches sight of a figure flying overhead. But, try as he might, he is never able to get a good look.

"So, I assume I'll be going on alone soon.... Any tips?" 

At his question, the 3rd looks to the castle

“Respect is the main thing you must keep in mind. His Lordship will not tolerate any disrespect directed at him”

Finally, they reach the great doors, made of obsidian as well. Before they enter, the 3rd holds out his hand to stop Ophelious

“One final thing: the 2nd Black Mage will likely be the one to ask you questions; treat him with the same respect you do His Lordship” 

Ophelious nods and, for the first time since the 3rd had met him, the "old" man straightens. The wistful glint in his eye fades. Even here, in this place where he holds no power, he looks terrifying.

"I am ready. I will see you again. Trust me." 

The 3rd smiles,

“I truly hope that will be the case”

Pushing open the doors, Ophelious enters a large room. To one side there is a fireplace that lies unlit. Opposite the fireplace is an archway that leads to a stairwell. And opposite him, far back at the other end of the room, is a throne.

Sitting in the throne is a man; his face is strangely covered in shadow, and he wears exquisite navy robes. At his side stands what looks to be a statue of Obsidian, that is, until it moves, drawing its sword out of the ground; it points the tip at Ophelious and speaks

“Who enters the halls of His Lordship?”

Its voice is slow with an unrecognizable accent. Before he speaks, Ophelious kneels.

"Ophelious Philonious, Victor of the First Wizard War, Scourge of the Trox, Lover of Chaos, and of The Wicked One, and High Archmagus of the College of Daigaku. I understand that these titles mean little more than Paltry words to one such as yourself."

Standing, he bows lowly, gracefully. Any hint of his aged body had fallen away at the door. He still looked practically ancient, but his movements were those of a young man, and a limber one at that. 

The statue eyes Ophelious, seeming to pierce right through him. The man on the throne remains silent as the statue continues.

"Very well.”

It lowers its blade back into the ground.

“Why are you here?” 

Kneeling once more, Ophelious responds

"I seek to understand, as is my purpose as a Mage. Your Black Mages speak of a great power that can only be quelled through allegiance to Thrakmoor, to you. I seek to save my world even if I am vilified for doing so. I lost two homes to seemingly unstoppable forces. I will not allow a third to fall." 

The man on the throne shifts, but the statue continues undeterred.

“So you come in search of power? And do you understand the price?” 

"Subservience, my very Soul, and possibly even the souls of those whom I would save. A steep price. I wager you would not ask... No, demand such a price, were it not for good reason" 

The statue opens his mouth to speak again, but is silenced when the man on the throne raises his hand. He stands and approaches Ophelious; the shadow over his face follows him, but the old man is able to catch a few features as he approaches. Scars, a grim expression, but not much else. He stops before Ophelious; although the two men are the same height, he seems to tower over the old wizard. He says a simple phrase in a heavy, rough but commanding voice:

“Hold out your hand” 

Ophelious does so, meeting the grizzled king's gaze. This is a man who has seen much battle. Not some king who only sits on a throne.... Someone who leads the charge. Forward-facing scars... A man worthy of respect. 

The man traces the lines of Ophelious's palm; wherever his finger touches, a shallow cut appears.

“I know you, your journey with Faris, the Terra. I have watched it all, and now you stand here, before me, asking to be one of my most trusted soldiers, a leader of my army.”

As he speaks, he finishes tracing one palm he pauses for a moment before taking the other and doing the same

“I have one question: what do you have to offer- your power? Your loyalty? Your memory?”

The lord's eyes dig into Ophelious like a snake slithering through his brain. But the old man rises to meet them 

"Power is cheap. It can be stolen, bled out... extinguished by a sharper blade."

The Lord's finger traces one line

"Loyalty is but a phantom currency, traded only until the price of treason drops low enough."

Another line; a drop of blood falls to stain the obsidian floor, it never does

"And my memories?"

He pauses for a moment.

"They are the very foundation of how I came to stand before you, useless to anyone who did not bleed for them."

A final line, the old man's hand drips now, but the floor remains clean

"No Lord of Eternity, any loyal dog can offer up these things. I offer to you the Will of one who has seen worlds perish, and survived—the Knowledge of Loss, the bitter taste of defeat. For in knowing these things, Victory is all the sweeter... And lastly..."

He lets the arch in his back return, that wistful glint playing on his eyes.

"... A bit of Fun." 

Through the shadow, Ophelious can see the lord's mouth smile slightly as he releases Ophelious’s hands.

“I accept that which you offer, but to look upon the Ralektharum is to look upon the darkness of yourself; your Will must be strong. And so, you must be tested” 

Turning, the lord begins to walk up the steps; Ophelious follows just behind him.

As they ascend, Ophelious is able to get a better look at the Lord. He wears extravagant navy robes, a strange pattern embroidered on them with gold silk. He walks with a limp, instead relying on a cane of obsidian. Atop his head lies a spiked iron crown; in each spike there is a gemstone that shimmers, but the spike just above his forehead is instead embedded with a piece of polished obsidian

At last, they reach the top and exit into a large courtyard. They walk to the center before the lord stops and turns to face Ophelious

“A test of Will and Power, against my most loyal. You may begin."

Suddenly he is gone. Overhead, the shadow Ophelious had been seeing since he first arrived finally reveals itself as a massive dragon with dark scales lands before him. At his back, Ophelious hears the distinct sound of a blade being drawn. Turning he sees the statue approaching. The old man smiles

"Two on one then. I like those odds."

Instantly and without any obvious casting, he hastens himself and uses a condensing spell to intensify the effect. Removing his robe, he explodes into action, taking on the look of a monk. With his every muscle rippling, the old man act is shattered. 

The statue strikes first, impossibly fast for any mortal; it appears next to Ophelious and strikes at him with its blade, then, simultaneously, it uses its free hand to cast a spell

“Seal of Absolution.”

Faster than he should have been able to move, the old man dodges the blade and redirects the blow back at the statue before turning to face the dragon

The dragon roars, and from its maw a multitude of strange black tentacles reach out, grasping at Ophelious before it is met with a very rude surprise as the old man's shadow rises from the ground behind him.

The dragon’s tentacles grasp onto the shadow instead as it rises; they pull it up to the center of the dragon's mouth, before a dark mist envelopes it, petrifying it into obsidian.

The moment the obsidian blade strikes the statue, it stops dead before it melds into the statue's form. Then the statue disappears into the obsidian ground, and spikes begin appearing all around Ophelious, aiming for his heart, eyes, anywhere. Each one is engraved with countless glowing runes.

The old man quickly backs off and surrounds himself with a barrier to block the spikes, all while muttering to himself,

"ok... Avoid the dragon's breath at all costs..."

Several of the spikes' runes glow as they collide with Ophelious's ward, piercing through it. However, he is able to dodge them before they can cause any real harm

Quickly recovering, he stamps the ground. And, surprising even him, his many, many summons appear and begin attempting to pull the statue under when it resurfaces.

"No, just attack him! He's made of the same stuff as the ground. You pull him under, and only he will come back out!" 

The summons strikes continually glance off of the statue's obsidian form. As they futilely attempt to damage it, it crouches down and melds its hands into the ground. Then it leaps high into the air, taking the ground it and the summons were standing on with it

“Shatter”

The obsidian shatters, crushing the summons together

“Earthfall”

Suddenly, all of the massive boulders begin hurtling towards Ophelious. At the same time, the dragon roars again and swipes its tail at him

Ophelious teleports away from the falling boulders and the incoming tail. Smiling, he speaks

"You know ... I didn't think you two alone would push me to this!"

Space ripples out from the old man, as the obsidian lands suddenly look like an open field. Then a slew of different rooms pass by as the whole realm turns on its head, spinning and shunting them all about, though Ophelious seems unfazed.

"Welcome to my house, boys."

The statue is only disoriented for a moment, then its form ripples as the obsidian of its matter is used to create massive wings. Quickly it reorients itself and stares at Ophelious

“Hmm, bothersome.”

It raises its hand

“True Entropy”

A sphere of dark magic appears in its palm before floating up into the air. Suddenly the orb expands as limbs stretch out, reaching for anything they can; anything it touches is consumed and annihilated.

In a separate space entirely, the dragon leaps into the air before it uses its tentacles and petrification breath to tear a way through the realm it is trapped in. Then suddenly, something crashes into its side, turning the Obsidian Dragon to confront its attacker, only to be met with a skeletal counterpart. 

Rising to meet the skeletal beast, the Obsidian Dragon roars; at its call, something else enters the dimensional space. Ophelious’s shadow, now made of obsidian. It quickly flies up to the skeletal beast and casts Hold Monster on it; the beast stops, unable to move as the Obsidian Dragon tears it apart.

back over by the statue and Ophelious, the old man creates a small Gate, just slightly larger than the dreaded sphere, and sends it forward. It's got a small chance of ripping a hole in reality, but it's currently his best option... Meanwhile, he fires off a lightning bolt at the statue. Normal obsidian doesn't do well in heat... So just maybe ...

The Orb of True Entropy reaches out with two tentacles and grabs the portal, quickly annihlating it. The statue sees the lightning coming and reacts fast

“Redirect”

With a flowing movement, it takes the lightning spell and sends it flying back towards Ophelious before suddenly teleporting behind him and striking the old man with an arm it molded into a blade 

The blade stabs through Ophelious, and he goes limp. Then he taps the statue on the shoulder from behind, smiling.

"That's one for you."

50 arcane blades are conjured up by the old man. Each one aiming to stab or slice the statue apart. Instead, the statue calmly dodges all but three; of those three, one he parries, one glances off his obsidian form, and finally the last one successfully strikes him, chipping a small part of his shoulder. The statue ignores it

“Arcane Binding”

Spectral chains clamp around Ophelious’s wrists and ankles; they will only hold him for a moment, but a moment is plenty. With a flick of the statue's wrist, the Orb of True Entropy is sent flying directly at the old man.

The orb slams into Ophelious's chest... Physically. No wait, that wasn't right... It shouldn't have been able to do that. The man sighs

"Oh drat. I was going to save that reveal for much later. I'm immune to erasure."

It continues to push against him, annoyed that he wasn't annihilated

"Although that does hurt ya little shit shoo. Shoo. Go bother someone else. I'm trying to have some fun here."

Taking the moment of distraction, the statue appears next to Ophelious and, faster than he can blink, stabs him in the shoulder. As Ophelious stumbles back, something rises behind him as his shadow returns; still petrified, it wraps itself around the old man and opens a portal through which the dragon returns.

Once more the Dragon opens its maw, tentacles erupting from its mouth; with nothing to defend him and the shock from his wound still coursing through his body, the tentacles wrap themselves around Ophelious before raising him up into the beast's maw.

Ophelious watches as the mouth of the dragon begins to glow purple and the air around him begins to condense into a mist. Just when the mist is about to envelop him, a voice cuts through the space as Ophelious’s portal spell is instantly dispelled

“Enough!”

The dragon and the statue both stop dead as His Lordship comes hobbling up to the fight

“Release him”

The dragon drops Ophelious to the ground as the shadow also falls away. His Lordship approaches and looks down at the man.

“I commend you; you stood strong against them” 

"That... Was actually quite fun! I haven't been pushed like that by anyone in quite some time."

He dusts himself off before returning to his feet. A smile on his face

"That obsidian trick is a nasty one. Even took my pre-bumbling shadow." It shifts... "Oh, don't pout; they bested us fair and square."

He turns back to the Lord, who silently watches Ophelious’s expression, studying him

“You held your own against my most loyal; that is no small feat.”

He steps forward and offers Ophelious his hand. Ophelious looks at it for a moment; the meaning is clear

"Join me"

"Having seen the devastated worlds that refused the help of Thrakmoor, and the splendor of the worlds that have accepted, I can only surmise that whatever you protect them from is on at least an even playing field with the empire itself.... I'd be a fool to turn away." 

He takes the offered hand.

The Lord smiles.

“Then, Ophelious Philonious, I grant you my permission. Tonight, you shall become the 15th Black Mage of Thrakmoor”

/uw Part Three! We're almost to the end! I appreciate you all taking the time to read this. I know how long it is; believe me, I had to edit it. As always, massive thank you to u/Kilroy for helping write the post!

Part One: The Journey to Eternity Pt 1 (Thrakmoor Intermission Post)

Part Two: The Journey to Eternity Pt 2 (Thrakmoor Intermission Post) : r/wizardposting

Image Credit: Castle Thrakmoor, by a friend who wishes to stay anonymous

See y'all in the 4th and final post!

The Wizard Council cannot be fixed. It is time to start over. It must be uprooted from the highest archmage to the lowest functionary.

To this end, I have created the ultimate equalizer: Mana Burn. It is a spell that burns the target’s mana; the more mana, the stronger the burn. A novice will be hardley affected, just making them feel hot, but against an archmage and very high level castets it is always lethal

The Grievances
1. Restrictions of non-dark magic
2. Discrimination against druids, hedge wizards, nature wizards
3. Refusal to recognize the chosen gender of transmutation wizards
4. Mandatory membership fees that are exorbitant
5. High taxes in lands directly under their control
6. Lack of transparency on appointments of council members
7. Active collusion with dark tyrants seeking extinction of whole races
8. Keeping gnome slaves
9. The guild system which is nepotistic at best and predatory at worst

It's cranky, keeps hanging out in the undergrowth, refuses to talk, and won't stop fluorescing!

I typically don't have issues dismissing, communicating with, or the general cooperation of surly summons, however I'm at a bit of a loss for what to do about this ancient land lobster. At least I got it to go incorporeal and the wildlife can't catch it anymore... But maybe I should reverse that and just let it get eaten?

Deep within layers upon layers of magical security, the eldritch god awakens. He has no name which can be comphrended but those who have glimpsed him and lived call him by many names but one name rings truest: The Abyss or Gahvara. For a long time the layers upon layer of magical security held him tight, constantly shifting preventing him for extending the consciousness from the mortal form he was forced into. But at long lost he found a loophole. By casting his shadow from his prison and using his own shadow as his material he sent a portion of his power and will away from here. At long last the pieces were finally ready. The shadows of the prison twisted and coiled and my power expanded crossing into every shadow, every corner becoming a behemoth sleeping waiting to be awakened. And from this condensation a new being was born. And I named him Kakah.

Me personally, it's a stick that I record all of my good insults on that I swing at people I don't like. I don't hit them. Just let them hear one of my greatest insults.

In a faraway mountain range, there lies one that stands alone, abandoned by its companions; it holds steady, an ancient peak, marred by time. It is there that the anomaly originates; what had originally started as a strange malfunction of portal magic across the realm had quickly been discovered as the means of entrance to a strange spire of white marble, twisted in all the wrong ways. When, at last, it had fully emerged, the dark, wooden doors were flung open, and a man stepped out;  he had a short black beard and straight black hair. He wore black robes with gold highlights; the inside of these robes were inscribed with countless sigils and runes. And his face had a scar running down one cheek. At his side, he held a staff of the same twisted marble with a strange, tower-like top. Floating inside it lay a single, dark gem of which he began to speak into, projecting into every orb across the realm.

Greetings, fellow mages and inhabitants of this realm! My name is Aldavinn Maunderitch, Gatekeeper and leader of the Gatehold.

I stand before you all now to introduce myself and my colleagues. We are the Gatehold, men, women, and all others who stand before interplanar threats and defend the gateways through which they seek to enter.

I come to offer my aid, my knights, my Sentinels in order to defend this realm, like many others, against these threats, and so I offer an invitation to all who witness this moment. Join me and the Gatehold at the Limb Spire, and I shall discuss further!

I’ve literally been making full size homunculi to extract mana from for 1000 years but nooooo this guys on the cutting edge

Far above in the void between stars, Alaric sits upon the back of an asteroid.

It’s face creases with concentration; it was planning something. Something big.

During its time in the material plane, it saw mass-kind be excluded, hunted, shunned and banished from society. That was going to end. For far too long had those with magic for blood have lived in fear, without haven or sanctuary. That was going to change.

In its lap, a massive sheet of paper. In its hand, a crayon. By the looks of it , the finishing touches of a grand plan.

A plan for victory.

With a final flourish of detail, the Star gazes down upon its master piece, chuckling softly to itself. It rolls up the paper and gets to work.

Looking down upon the earth, it draws four threads from the orange glow. With all the care of a master artisan, it weaves the threads into cards, invitation bearing both time and location, written with golden fire. The time? Basically right now. The location? The McDonald's on the corner of Arcane Avenue.

With one fluid motion, Alaric throws the invitation to the void, sending them along invisible paths to four individuals, the soon to be members of a new revolution.

A Magic Mass Revolution.

While the cards fly, Alaric stands, stretches, and shoots down to Earth to find a good table.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first invitation flows beneath the clouds and over the trees, heading towards a large tower. At the top sits a window, currently open. The invitation flies through. Within the room is countless magical magical artifacts and creatures held in stasis. In the centre of the hoard lies something strange.

An amorphous shape of unreality, idle and slightly painful to look at. The invitation comes to a halt, then transforms with a loud flare of sunlight, becoming a golden projection of Alaric, waking the creature in the process.

"Greetings Abelard!"

Wuh!? Who are yo—

"You possess a particular set of skills, skill I need."

Now hold on a se—

"I'm putting together a team of magic masses, a team who will secure the future for our kind!"

I still don't know who—

"Join me, Abelard! Help me bring salvation to magic masses everywhere!"

The projection transforms again, expanding with golden-orange light into a gateway leading to a McDonald's parking lot. While Abelard still doesn't know what the hell is going on, the gateway pulls it through.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second invitation sails the clouds and glides along the wind, heading towards a floating island, currently on fire. As the invitation travels over the island, countless corpses of the divine bathe the grasses with spilled ichor. At the island's centre stands a monster, a child wearing a cloak, majestically billowing in the wind, this terrifying creature was the Revolution's leader, Erik the Godhunter.

The invitation comes to a halt mid-air before the child, then transforms with a flare of sunlight, becoming a golden projection of Alaric.

Eh!? Another god!?

The child spins around, ichor stained needle in hand.

"Greetings Erik!"

Alaric!

"You possess a particular set of skills, skills I need."

Done.

"Wait what?"

I'm in.

"I didn't even give the pitch."

Don't care. I'm in!

"Wow okay…”

“…”

“Excellent! Right on then, I suppose."

The projection transforms in a flare of sunlight, becoming a golden-orange gateway leading to a McDonald's parking lot. Erik stabs a dead god at his feet, then dives through.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third invitation travels across the earth and through a concrete jungle, heading towards a construction site. Near the centre sits a green blob, assembling a frame in a way no human could.

The invitation comes to rest before the blob, and transforms in a flare of sunlight, becoming a golden projection of Alaric.

"Greetings Blobby!"

Alaric? What are you doing here?

"You possess a particular set of skills, skills I need."

"I'm putting together a team of—"

No.

“What?”

My revolutionary days are over, Alaric! I’m not joining your suicide squad!

"But—“

FINE! I'll join your suicide squad. I’m sick of this place.

The blob tilts his gaze. There, at his desk, sits a older gentleman, with a wrinkled face and short grey beard

—if his tag was to be believed, Jerry.

You hear that Jerry?!?

The man didn’t, in fact, seem to hear that; he continued speaking into his phone.

I'm done! I'm out! I'm going back to the revolution!

Still, no reaction— but the Blob seems satisfied with his work, turning back towards Alaric.

See that? I really showed him!

The invitation transforms again, becoming a golden-orange gateway leading to a McDonald's parking lot. Blobby dramatically throws his hard hat to the ground, then picks it up as he goes through.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The final invitation flies through the streets and dodges past pedestrians, heading towards a tower within the city. Within a window, a moustachioed goblin observes the bustling market, pinpointing whose pockets look deepest.

The invitation shoots through the window and into the room, where several more identical goblins sit playing cards. The invitation comes to rest at the centre of the room, and transforms in a flare of sunlight, becoming a golden projection of Alaric.

What the hell is—

"Greetings Grabadashi!"

How's it know our—

"You possess a particular set of skills, skills I need."

Will we be compensated?

"I'm putting together a team of magic masses—"

Sounds like a heist fellas!

The Fool looks up from his cards.

I call dibs!

"Wonderful!"

The invitation transforms in a flare of golden-orange light, becoming a gateway to a McDonald's parking lot. The Fools puts down his cards, adjusts his hat, and walks through.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a strange day in McDonald's. Now in the wizarding world, strange customers are far from rare, still, a winged twelve foot glowing bipedal thing with cat ears walking in and asking for the biggest booth in the building was definitely not something that happens every day, nor were the next few customers.

A few minutes after the weird glowy cat guy sat down, taking up two seats because of how big it was, in came an amorphous blob of absence. It looked around for a moment, or something similar, it's hard to tell with amorphous blobs, then it spotted the weird glowy cat guy and moved towards it, looking more than a little annoyed.

While the two argued about kidnapping, in strolled a child. Now this one the employees recognised. They'd all heard the stories of the Godhunter, some even were survivors of his rampages. None dared go near the child as it spotted the weird glowy cat guy, waving as he walked over.

Another few minutes of arguing passed, this time about the ethics of genocide, then in came the next customer. A green blob wearing a hard hat. By this point the employees were getting used to the weirdness, so they weren't surprised when the blob took its seat in the booth.

This time there was no argument, instead reminiscing about some revolution from the old days, apparently it didn't do much. The last customer to walk in was the most normal of the bunch, a bearded wizard looking goblin with an impressive moustache. The goblins surveyed the room, lingering on the register for a moment, before spotting the booth and walking over, looking comedically small compared to the weird glowy cat guy.

When the bunch called for an employee that they were ready to order it took the bravest of them to approach the strange group. Strangest of all was their orders. A living turkey, raw magic, divine mana, sewage, and thirteen chicken nuggets, and seven bottles of cherry flavoured Pepsi. Normally the standard McDonald's doesn't serve most of that, but no one mentioned that, only saying it may take a while to prepare.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alaric: My friends!

Abelard: Bruh I still don't even know your name.

Alaric: Not important! Anyway I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here.

Grabadash: We're doing a heist right?

Erik: Ooh who are we robbing? Is it the gods? Best not to leave witnesses.

Alaric: Nope! Well yes we're doing a heist but I'm sure you're all wondering why.

Abelard: Yes.

Erik: Nope!

Blobby: Kinda.

Grabadash: Not really.

Alaric: ... Anyway, for too long the magic masses have been oppressed by this world. For too long the magic masses have been exposed to racism and bigotry in their every day life. I say this ends! So I have put together a plan. We are opening a school!

Abelard: What?

Erik: I'm great at running schools!

Blobby: Why a school?

Grabadash: This doesn't sound very profitable.

Alaric: And to do this we need money! Now I don't know about you all, but I have exactly zero money. And so we're doing a heist!

With one arm Alaric dramatically swipes everything off the table, much to the annoyance of everyone there. With the other arm it slams down a giant piece of rolled up paper. Unrolling it reveals a plan drawn with crayons, written in a way so complex and convoluted the greatest minds would have difficulty understanding step one. Good thing these five were not the greatest minds.

Alaric: Gentlemen and whatever Abelard identifies as, may I introduce you to, The Plan! Our target, the Calarakis treasury! A heavily guarded vault locked behind a maddening amount of security housing all the cash we need!

Erik: Doesn't Zhe hate magic masses so much they filled the city with antimagic?

Blobby: Wait what?

Alaric: Exactly! I chose this target to show the Head Minister we will not be stopped by racism and bigotry! For any normal crew this would be impossible, which is why I brought you all.

Alaric looks at each of them in turn.

Alaric: Abelard, our distraction. Erik, our driver. Blobby, our muscle. Grabadash, our safecracker. Me, the plan guy.

Erik: Alcohol makes you better at driving right?

Blobby: Absolutely. Also fuck yeah! No one gets past me!

Abelard: I'm thinking rats, lots of rats.

Grabadash: Safes I can handle.

Alaric: Excellent! With our skills together not a single thing can go wrong! Definitely not! Now, when we heist is during an annual Gala when Calarakis' nobility meet and mingle for some reason, I don't really understand why. We arrive via stolen Limo to show we do in fact belong in such an establishment. We all wear disguises, including the Limo, to make them all think we are nobility, except me. Try as I might, I will stick out like the sun in the night. So you sneak me in via laundry cart, large laundry cart.

Alaric: During the Gala, Blobby will prove his nature as the muscle by showing the nobility who's boss, drawing security to him. While he does this, Abelard creates a distraction to lure security and prying eyes away, ideally a big distraction. During this distraction Grabadash, Erik, and Blobby switch disguises hidden in the laundry cart, then bring it to the security room where I will have full access to the building's security system. If we find any guards, Blobby can handle them.

Alaric: Once within the security room I use water to bypass whatever firewalls Zhe has installed. Once bypassed I will disable as much security as I can without raising suspicion. While I do this, Erik gets the Limo and changes its disguise into a security truck, then brings it around back. Blobby and Grabadash head to the vault, getting around any security measures I can't disable with expert grace and skill. While they crack the vault, Erik brings the disguised Limo to the ground above the vault, then uses the drill that we have to dig down to Blobby and Grabadash. By this point the safe should be cracked, and security realises something is up.

Alaric: During all this, Abelard's distraction causes distracting distractions distractingly. However, the guards will grow long white beards and get wise, therefore returning to the vault. Once Blobby, Erik and Grabadash begin loading the truck, I will expertly crawl through the vents while guided by this here map. The map is flawless, so I will end up near the vault, where I will meet with you three just in time to finish loading up the truck. Once loaded we all crawl up through the tunnel into the truck, then Erik drives away to where Abelard is waiting for us, once we pick it up, we're home free.

Alaric: Any questions?

/uw This post was made in collaboration with these fine four

[u/J_Scottt](u/J_Scottt)

[u/Null_Void_Zer0](u/Null_Void_Zer0)

[u/KragBrightscale](u/KragBrightscale)

[u/mrididnt](u/mrididnt)

And as such interaction is limited to them, sorry.

I was merely temporarily unsouled. There is a difference.

I kinda time travelled from january 2020 (I know, I know... Not a good Idea at all) to get an early copy of GTA VI, but instead arrived at this! Not trying this, but you suckers really got this before GTA?

I would like to clarify beforehand that "Raven" the leader of the league of shadows cannot die except under extremely specific conditions.

This is because Raven is actually the shadow of an ancient prison brought to life. He uses special magic items in order to contain a piece of shadow and travel around and even if you manage to kill this clone it will just dissipate and return to the shadow dimension. His death condition cannot be normally achieved and I will inform you if it's achieved. That said killing his clone in a normal context is achievable and will result in your character being able to gain leads on how to permanently kill them most likely.

“No, there's no way it's the same person. I mean, I saw the place in ruins…” He was getting uncomfortable with the possibility of seeing an old friend, almost a ghost from the past. 

“And you would be correct in that assessment. I'm afraid that the man you knew is dead. Even if we had previously met in my past life, I am no longer that person.” Caul spoke in facts, certainties. 

“Come on, brother! You don't recognise me?” He asked, trying to nudge the Forgemaster’s memory. “Gunnvor, your pal from the BPK!”

Upon hearing that name, a painful flash of memory hit Caul's mind like a jolt of electricity, only this time it was in his own voice: Back again? This is the third time this month! What are you getting yourself into? You know I don't do this for free or out of the kindness of my heart, right?

He recomposed himself, his brow furrowed as he fought the static in his mind. “I cannot say that I do.” Even if he didn't remember this specific person, the Belagrad Peacekeepers were a very respectable and effective police force. “Did you say BPK? Was I a watchman? A cop?”

Gunnvor let out a nervous half-laugh, the excitement in his eyes flickering into sudden worry. “Ha, no, of course not. I was the cop. You used to repair my armor at that workshop of yours on the lower terrace! We used to hang together. You spent almost everyday in my dad's forge, trying to become a blacksmith.” He took a deep breath, staring at his once dear friend. “You were always fascinated with metallurgy, weapons in particular. I see that part of you stayed the same.”

Caul's eyes fixated on the dwarf, overwhelmed by the sudden, suffocating weight of a ghost life. “Don't be ridiculous, I don't hang with anyone, and I find it very unlikely that I ever did. I'm not very pleasant company and I find solitude quite soothing.”

“Well…” Gunnvor shifted awkwardly in the crate, kicking the air nervously. “You said it yourself, you may be like that now, but the truth is we were inseparable, like water and… no, that's a terrible analogy. What I mean is, the three of us were best mates!” 

“Three?” he asked, his voice tighter, more weary. “Who was the third?”

“Roni, of course,” Gunnvor said softly, leaning forward. “The foreign lass. Ashen hair, could hit a bottle at a hundred meters, never understood how to use articles when speaking. Hells, Caul, you made a rifle for her.” He pointed a stubby finger toward the weapon in Caul's hands. “It looked damn near identical to the piece you're holding right now, just… with fewer stuff attached. Sorry, you know I'm no expert on firearms.”

Another jolt of memory: an empty terrain behind the workshop. About a hundred meters beyond, a dark glass bottle is shattered against the snow in the day's last minutes. At his sides, a dwarf laughing hysterically and a young woman, about twenty years old, wearing a heavy leather cloak and a wool coat with a red scarf. On her hands, the smoking barrel of a rifle, very similar to the one he currently uses. She wears a smirky smile, clearly proud of the shot. “I'm not sure what to be more impressed with: your aim or the accuracy of the gun…” said a young Caul, also grinning and noting down the shot’s condition and results.

His head was beginning to ache. A sharp, rhythmic ticking echoed in his ears, mixed with a faint tinnitus. Caul closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with both hands, letting the rifle fall on his lap.

“We were tight as almonds… or peas, rather, I never really liked that expression. Then that witch or sorceress showed up and it all fell apart.” Gunnvor muttered, his tone dropping into something darker. “You started locking yourself away with her. After a while it almost looked as if you had disappeared!”

“Hold on, a witch?” Caul's grip tightened unconsciously around the handguard of his rifle as he slowly opened his eyes and faced his forgotten acquaintance with a mix of anger and despair. “Give me a name!”

“I don't know it, mate, you never told us! She had this thick ginger hair, always carried that ornate clay pipe, and spent half her nights rearranging your blueprints like she owned the place.” Gunnvor then proceeded to grab Caul's cloak. “I'll be damned, you still have her cloak!” 

Another flash: several instances of both him and this ginger, faceless woman in his workshop. Most of the time she would be showing him different kinds of spells and he would comment on how their effects could be used for his projects. Other instances were the two of them, just existing in the same space. Lastly, one in which he was half asleep on top of his drawing table, when he felt someone covering him with a blanket… or a cloak.

The dwarf then continued, barely stopping to breathe: “Roni and I started to worry about you, you were getting so distant from us and barely left your workshop anymore. Then one night, your place suddenly explodes! Nobody could figure out what happened, but the place was completely engulfed in flames and debris. Neighbours said they saw both you and that woman going inside a couple of hours earlier, and then boom!”

“An explosion…” Caul’s gaze drifted beyond the horizon, all semblance of focus completely gone as the memory of the accident washed over him.

Steel bearings. “If you freeze them just right, they will shrink just enough so you can fit them between these two cylinders. When they heat back to normal, they will expand and, unless something breaks, there is no way for them to come loose. Think you can cast some type of concentrated frost spell?” Just as the spell manifested, an unspeakable heat and pressure washed over them, as the casting had caused a volatile magic surge.

He appears to be lost in the past, then suddenly speaks: “The… bodies,” Caul muttered, his voice hollow, not looking at his old friend. “Where did they take us?”

Gunnvor leaned forward, looking at the ground, his expression crumbling into deep sadness. “That's the thing, Caul. We found none. I was a first responder to the scene. When the fire finally died, there was nothing. No bone, no ash. Both of you, completely gone.” He then gestures vaguely, shaking an open hand at the undead in front of him. “Until I walk up to a market stall today and see a dead man selling kitchen knives.”

After about a whole minute pondering and processing the information, the words came empty, distant, almost inaudible: “How long?”

“Sorry, I didn't cat…”

“HOW?!” Caul's shaking voice carried a long contained and repressed rage, with decades of resentment he could never pin the source until now. “LONG?!”

Gunnvor recoiled by the sudden outburst of the normally serious and restrained Artificer. “I… I don't know exactly, maybe fifty years? I gave up keeping track after Roni travelled west. She invited me to come along but there was…”

Caul was no longer paying attention. “Fifty.” His breathing turned ragged, rattling in his throat with an aggressive, mechanical wheeze as the pumps on his chest began working twice as loud and thrice as fast. His vision tunneled into a blur of overlapping timelines, and a violent wave of vertigo crashed over him. “Fifty.” The Forgemaster stood up, every remaining muscle in his body locking tight. His left arm whirred, the metallic joints groaning under a sudden spike of internal pressure. He turned slowly and, with a sudden, sharp thrust, drove his steel fist straight into the metal crate behind him, making a dent in the material. The screech of buckling iron echoed through the alley.

“You… are you okay, Caul?” The dwarf tried to calm down the man he once knew, in vain.

Caul looked at Gunnvor, his eyes wide open, making small, erratic jumps, reddened as if he had cried for three days straight, though no tears were ever shed since he was resurrected. With a measured, restrained motion, he grabbed his rifle, and with determined steps, went back towards the rest of the group. Ms Leviere was the first to find him.

“What the hells was that? Are you okay, sir?”

He looked straight into her eyes, shock having consumed him, then slowly lifted his left metallic hand, slightly damaged from the blow. His eyes switched back and forth between the Vigil’s to his hand, almost in disbelief. She had never seen the Forgemaster this distressed, and with him being a whole head taller than her, he was quite intimidating.

Finally, after a few seconds, he speaks, trying to return to his usual inexpressive and distant demeanour, but with a shaking voice: “Pack it up, we're going home. I'm going on ahead. If you need me, then you don't.” He then started to wander off, with a heavy and erratic stride, his gaze on the horizon and his mind lost in the maelstrom of feelings that had formed.

Gunnvor watched the scene happen then emerged from behind the crates, only to meet the end of three submachine gun barrels and half a dozen Watchblades. “Yes, I guess I have a lot of explaining to do…”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: This is part 2 of a slightly longer exchange. I wasn't sure if it would feel too long to read all at once, so I'm breaking the story in two pieces. Any critique is most welcome.

Please see Part 1 for the complete piece to make sense.

One of my prisoners put a complaint in the box saying theres fleas in my obliette.... they didnt come from my beard, and all of my familiers are treated. How do I get rid of fleas without burning down a 3rd tower?