Megaversal Remix

Marrowlight · Posted: Sat Aug 01, 2009 4:10 pm Post subject: Game Thread 1.02a: Kingly Matters

((No post yet, just setting up the thread title as a teaser. Off to a wedding now!))

Marrowlight · Posted: Sun Sep 20, 2009 7:33 pm Post subject:

Some of you have arrived by way of relatives you barely know.

Others were accompanied by your giant ivory skinned shadows, though none of these unusual men actually entered the final set of doorways.

Most of you were brought by guards, though these guards differed from any you've seen about the tower. They were of average height and build, though the trained warriors amongst you were certain that average was a word that in no way applied to the conditioning of these men. Their heads and faces were devoid of any visible hair, and their faces were also unremarkable. Even with your keen eyes and sharp minds, not a one of you could've described them with any accuracy. Caleb in particular was bothered by this fact. You're all fairly certain they were white, though Brutus would've sworn they were black, and Tian that they were natives of her very province. Each wore cloth instead of mail or plate, though the trained eyes amongst you were certain that weave of thread was as sturdy as any steel or iron. Shaen and Theron both recognized it as steelsilk, though of a higher purity than either have ever before seen. The fabrics were dyed in black and white, and Caleb was reminded of those damned government spooks that were becoming all the rage in his home. They even had the sunglasses, that hide any hint of life in the eyes behind them. Suit, tie, fedora, well polished shoes, all a dark black. A stiff and perfectly pressed white button down was visible beneath the suit, and a gold watch peaked out between their right sleeves and leather gloves. The gloves too were black, but they didn't appear to be dyed that way. Manticore leather, Shaen was certain. Their simple black ties carried one distinction on them, a white silhouette of a Unicorn, reared back on its hind legs.

As the guards moved you all through the castle, instead of dealing with the endless corridors and staircases that have left a number of you lost, they simple kept walking through doorways, doorways that none of you remembered seeing during your own explorations. Within only a few minutes, you each found yourselves deep in the castle, standing before a set of doors made of wood and metal. The doors actually seemed to hum and slightly throb, as if they were still alive. There were no visible locks, doorknobs, or doorknockers on either door. Instead, as the guards moved near them, they simply opened inward, giving you entrance.

The final corridor you'd taken to this doorway had been cramped, so that only two of you could walk beside one another. There was hardly any light, and the stone had been dirty, wet, and slimey. It also seemed to stretch on for almost half a mile. Even these guards lacked a shortcut to your meeting spot.

Once you'd passed through the doorway, the shift in light was so intense as to be nearly blinding. There were no visible lamps, candles, or light fixtures. The room was simply bright. And huge. Though most of you have seen, or owned, throne rooms larger than this one, this one could certainly play host to over two thousand guests, and that's a conservative estimate.

Though large, like most of the castle, the throne room was a simple affair. The walls were nearly forty feet high, and made of a white stone that none of you can quite place. The stone has been shaped into identical blocks, each four feet by six. Their weight must be immense. The floor that you walked upon was a seamless black substance, reflective and smooth, as if a volcano had washed over the ground and left a perfectly flat and level surface behind. There were a number of simple wooden chairs with small pillows placed upon the seats assembled in a half circle, all angled to focus directly on the two thrones at the far end of the room. One throne was made entirely of gold, the second of silver. Neither show any apparent cushioning, but both were covered with intricate designs, though none of you can quite trace the importance of the design, though your eyes seem to instinctively be able to trace it in your mind.

The man some of you have met, known as Benedict, is the first in the chamber. He is dressed in battle armor, hints of orange trimming the metal. He stands, slightly resting on a massive two handed sword that is unsheathed, the tip of it pressed, but not marking, the black floor beneath. Though each of you react in your own unique ways to the armor clad man, none of you are ignorant of the fact he is the most dangerous seeming man you've ever met. His appears ready and able to kill everyone in the room, without breaking a sweat.

Next to arrive are Shaen and Gerard. Gerard is still filthy from his sport earlier, and the stench of the tavern surrounds them both. Once some cold water is administered to Shaen, he is taken up to one of the center chairs by Gerard, who then takes a seat on the far edge of the half circle.

Caleb and Tian are next to arrive, these two both showing the strain of their journey. Fiona, in all her diminutive glory, appears out of nowhere almost immediately after they've arrived, and with a pair of looks and nods between her and Benedict, she guides the two to the chairs, seating them to the left of Shaen. She then takes her own seat far to the left, leaving two seats at the end open.

Brutus, his body still moving unsteadily, is brought in next. His guard actually has to help him to hit seat, which is at the right of Shaen. The man simply does not look well.

Theron comes next, and he is the first to discover that once he crossed the doorways, he found himself utterly cut off from the powers he holds on to so tightly. If necessary, Gerard will help him find his seat, but no matter what, he will be seated to the right of Brutus.

Two more men, both unescorted by guards and as such likely uncles of you all, walk through the doorway shortly after Theron. One is of average height, though his build and dress speak of a life spent at sea. He looks every bit a rakish pirate, dressed in greens and blacks, visibly wielding only a short dagger at his waist, and a sheathed curved blade at his side. The second is taller and broader of shoulder, though not as large as Gerard. His face is clean shaven and his dark hair is long, a marked contrast to his companion, whose dark hair is short, and whose face is covered with hair. The taller man is dressed in a complex suit of plate mail that looks almost insect like. It is pure white, as if no dust or grime had ever touched it. A large white blade is strapped across his back, and though they do not enter with him, a pair of dogs the size of motorcycles wait outside the doorway for him, their eyes never leaving him.

They sit to the left of Gerard, leaving only a few empty seats between them and Theron.

Llewella, who stops long enough to whisper a few things to Caleb, is next to arrive. She is dressed in a flowing gown of green that shifts as if it were water itself. It is not tight in any way, and yet it teases every curve of her body. The pirate in particular seems drawn to her shape. She sits to the left side, on Fiona's right, but being certain to leave a seat between them.

Next comes a lion of a man, his flaming red hair literally shaped and flowing like a thick mane. Garbed in red mail and orange silks, it is hard to tell if he is dressed for battle or a ball, though the wine on his breath seems a clear indicator to some. He sits to Fiona's left, giving her an embarrassingly loud kiss on the cheek.

A cough from Benedict's direction rings out, and Gerard quickly jumps up and moves away the empty chair next to Tian. A young man, his body still quite damaged looking, is brought in in a wheelchair. The youth is of Asian skin tone, but with short blond hair. He is dressed in a variety of greens, though much of that is obscured by the thick blanket that is draped over him. Aaron is the name he's given by the woman tending to him, though his jaw seems quite unready to work. Her style of dress and color selection makes all of you think of your own escorts to this world, escorts that none of you have since seen. Caleb, in particular, is burdened by memories of his escort, memories freshly stirred by Llewella.

For a few minutes there is silence, broken only by the disturbing sounds Aaron's wounded body is making, and the staccato tapping of Benedict's sword making contact with the floor. At last, just as the warrior's hands were beginning to grow tight around his hilt, a woman bursts through the doorway. Even for those of you who are women, or who don't like blonds, cannot deny that this is the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. But it is more than beauty, it is sensuality. Her body moves with a grace equal to Benedict's, though hers is not the movements of a warrior, but of a seductress. Her gown is scandalous, done in shades of blue ranging from near black to near transparent. More than one of you feel yourself growing quite uneasy as she slinks through the throne room, her eyes never lingering one any one of you for too long. At last she takes a seat next to the man in white armor, a move that brings more than one strangled choking sound from the throats of the elders.

At which point Benedict walks away from the doorway, and though he does not sit, he stands behind the seat farthest to the left, next to the lion maned redhead.

Not including Benedict's unoccupied seat, there are seven other seats that have no home. The one between Fiona and Llewella, four more to Llewella's right, separating her and Aaron, and two between Theron and the captivating blond.

At last, once Benedict takes his position, a flash of color temporarily blinds you all, and as your sight returns you find the thrones occupied. The gold throne is occupied by a young man dressed all in black, his blond hair touched with a trim of white. Beside him, in the silver throne, is a brown haired beauty, dressed from head to toe in red. Though some of you are bound to be overwhelmed by all that is going on, more than one of you will pick up on the fact that the lady is quite blind.

Between them, dressed in a dark brown, his hair and face a near reflection of the man in the gold throne, is a tall man that seems both uncomfortable and angry. Unlike the rest, his eyes and face still betray a number of emotions, emotions that flicker as he takes in the assembled guests.

"Is this everyone then, Benedict?" the standing youth asks. The lack of a title for the prince might be an insult, but the tone of the youth sounds very kind.

"I am expecting no others, Prince Martin." Benedict shows no hint of anger over the potential slight. Of course, he is still holding his blade.

"In that case, I present to you all Random, last of the High Princes, grandson to the First Inscriber, and the second and reigning King of Amber, may his reign be eternal."

The lot of elders echo the "may his reign be eternal" though more than one has an obvious hint of doubt in their voice. Random, for his part, seems overly amused at the entire process.

"That will do, Martin," The king waves the youth off, and Martin takes two steps back, fading slightly from sight. "Now, I imagine you all have a great number of questions, and I'm sure we'll get to some of them in time. For now, however, you're going to sit back and listen. Do try to keep the incredulous looks and disbelieving sneers to a minimum. This is all too important to let us devolve as most family gatherings are wont to do."

"Those of you that don't recognize who I am, or where you are, are the sons and daughters of...someone. Though none of us have stepped forward to claim the lot of you, that doesn't matter. I have good reason to believe all of you are children of Amber, which means your lives are in terrible danger. You have been brought here for your own protection." Random smiles, his face dancing between deathly serious and half amusement. "This is the part that always gets them," he mumbles to his blind wife. "Some of you have already figured out, or have been told, that you are in another reality. That is very true. What you, for the most part, have not been told, is that this is the original reality. This is the stone and sky that all of your homes are but twisted reflections of. You all, should you survive the tests and the training, will server Amber, will serve Me, and fight against the coming dangers. Exciting, isn't it?"

Random paused for a moment, giving you all time to react, and maybe even speak.

((for a seat pattern, from left to right...Benedict, lion mane, fiona, empty, llewella, four empties, aaron, tian, caleb, shaen, brutus, theron, two empties, hot blond, white armored, pirate, gerard))

The Novastar · Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2009 4:37 pm Post subject:

Theron tries to once again hold onto the Art as he enters the King's Audience Chamber. He's expecting, if anything, the enchantments to be even stronger at the King's presence, and is unsurprised when he feels it flicker and die. He also more than willing to let his moment of hestitancy be attributed to once again losing his Gift, but in truth, is his mind trying to divine how the effect takes place.

Is it an enchantment? Another's power? A fundamental change in the Plane?

Once Theron knows how it works, he fully intends to work around it.

Theron seeks to control a grimace, as he sees a seat in front of the throne. He'd much prefer to stand. Benedict tapping his sword on the marless black floor does not help matters any.

A chair can, quite easily, become an executioner's block. Theron had used that trick before himself, when he was still a young Sorceror Supreme.

Theron struggles to keep his awe in check, as the other member's of his "family" are brought in. The blonde in particular Theron finds himself staring a bit too much at, and his cheeks tinge pink, at his own embarassment. Blood and bloody ashes, the impropriety! But the woman was beautiful...

Theron watches as the King transports in, trying to notice if it was Art that brought him in, or a magicians' predistigation (the flash would make it fairly easy), and listens intently. An eyebrow raises at the oath, and Theron makes note to try to place the...exuberence...other elder members make of that oath, for later use.

With Random's words, a question bursts forth from Theron's lips, "So this is the original, the Prime you say...m'lord." Theron adds the last bit, remembering he's guest in this man's home. "But that beggars the question: What creates these alternate worlds? These, "twisted reflections", as you put it?"

Marrowlight · Posted: Tue Sep 22, 2009 4:47 am Post subject:

cyber-yukongil v2.5 · Posted: Tue Sep 22, 2009 8:04 pm Post subject:

Though not a complete stranger to formal gatherings of royalty and other high muckety-mucks, still it is Caleb feels out of his depth here, though he hides it well. He sits in silence for the most part, merely observing and absorbing everything that carries on around him, until it becomes apparent that no one is going to ask the important question.

"What is after us?"
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Marrowlight · Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 5:05 am Post subject:

"Elvis and the Beatles."

Just kidding folks, brain is beat, will post tomorrow!

Marrowlight · Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 6:01 am Post subject:

The Novastar · Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 3:50 pm Post subject:

"But I thought we, Children of this Prime, this...Amber, as you call it, were the architects of all reality. Would that not mean, that if there are those that seek to mold this...multiverse, to their will, are they not our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters?"

Theron's eyes quickly scan the crowd, looking for reactions.

"Would that not make us our own worst enemies?"

cyber-yukongil v2.5 · Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 2:13 am Post subject:

"It would be no surprise to me, I am my own worst enemy...every now and then I kick the shit out of me...is that a smoke alarm?"

j/k Razz

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The Novastar · Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 5:00 am Post subject:

Marrowlight · Posted: Thu Oct 01, 2009 5:58 am Post subject:

cyber-yukongil v2.5 · Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2009 9:01 pm Post subject:

"Why are they our enemies? Is it for rule of this *here Caleb waves his hands around, seemingly motioning to "reality"*, or there something more to it?"
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So's Your Face!

Marrowlight · Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2009 6:05 am Post subject:

Marrowlight · Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 4:58 am Post subject:

((We've obviously run into some bad player attrition. Gonna have to do some pondering on this one, guys)).

cyber-yukongil v2.5 · Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 2:21 pm Post subject:

((np, if you need Caleb to pop up and start busting some caps to clear the room, let me know Razz

))
_________________
So's Your Face!

The Novastar · Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 3:35 pm Post subject: