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Author Topic: [BNW] Chapter 8: A Thin Black Line  (Read 7134 times)

October 25, 2017, 10:26:48 AM
Reply #150
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Jergen stands still a moment, frozen in place, before blasting the Corrupt nearest him with lightning.  He turns and swings, smashing one on the head with his pommel and moving towards the Masons.

Quote
GM - making Jergen's move for him since its been over a week. 

the Mason is up.
"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


November 04, 2017, 08:51:15 AM
Reply #151
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The light Mason's form aged as she dangled from her younger self's grip.  "Disappointing?  This coming from the Timelord who keeps hitting herself!"

"What?  Ack!  Stop that!"  The dark Mason found her face on the receiving end of a series of punches that were more a form of comical flailing than anything else.

"Stop hitting yourself!  Stop hitting yourself!"

"Seriously, stop!  You're not even hurting me."

"No, but I bet it's damn distracting..."

"Wait, whu?"
"Curiosity Beckons."
"Saving the day never seems to count if you can't save everyone..."


November 08, 2017, 10:31:57 AM
Reply #152
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One of the Corrupt stands next to the Dark Mason, and faces Leon.  The black mold around its face retreats, revealing a snarling Dalla Rail.



"Artest is mine." Growling, she draws a power sword and ignites it, leaping towards Leon and slashing at him.

Thokk launches a mini-missile towards the ceiling, and it bursts overhead, a brilliant white light making the shadows writhe and the Corrupt squirm under its harsh glare.  Engaging the nearest Corrupted armsman, he grabs the creature and flings it towards the distant wall, where it lands with a sickening crunch.

The army of Samanthas begins attacking, using guns, swords, and staffs against the nearest Corrupt.  Several fall when one of the chronovores vomits black bile upon them, convulsing as the Corruption begins to take them.  But overall, they clear a path for Samantha towards the Masons.

"And here I thought you'd never show up."  Prince Rendon smirks as he steps forward into Thokk's light, squamous tentacles of darkness over his shoulders holding various blades, some glinting with vile fluids.  "Ready to die, Jergen?"  He hurls himself into the fray, placing himself between the Masons and Jergen and swiping at the knight with multiple knives.

Quote
Dalla Rail's attacks:
1d10+1d10: 8,10 = 18
1d10+1d8: 9,6 = 15
damage: 1, 3

Prince Rendon's attacks:
1d10+1d10+1d6: 5,7,6 = 18
1d10+1d8+1d4: 8,2,3 = 13
damage: 4, 3

Everyone else is subject to attacks from the Corrupt - make a Vitality + Agility or Alertness vs. HARD(11).

The Dark Mason is at -1 DS Alertness due to the Mason's distraction.

Samantha is up.
« Last Edit: November 09, 2017, 02:21:18 PM by cortex ghost »
"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


November 12, 2017, 11:15:04 PM
Reply #153
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Code: [Select]
Vit+Alert 1d10 : 10,  10
 1d8 : 8,  8
   Grand Total=18

Maj. Samatha Carter
  US Air Force pilot, astrophysicist
      P-90, Beretta 9 mm, Kara kesh, Zat'nik'tel
        Strange Plasma Gun
      LP: 32/32 W:0 S:0
      0/12 PP 6 AP

Sam Thrusts her left hand forward at the mass of corrupted ahead of her and with a thought, sends a psychic blast into the group, sending several bodies flying in all directions.

« Last Edit: November 12, 2017, 11:18:53 PM by MacTrom »
-Mac


GM: BumpInTheBlack
Player: D:LH, SAHC, BNW


November 23, 2017, 12:22:06 PM
Reply #154
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Leon raised his sword defensively, barely stopping the first incoming blows. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked bewildered, regaining his composure. "How can you want to do this?" He assumed a defensive stance and did his best to keep Dalla Rail talking. If what he thought was happening really was, he wanted to be sure he wasn't somehow killing a piece of Rosie first.
PbP Campaign history
AitD: Elliot and Alice Jeru
BNW: Leon Artest
Successfully concluded campaigns
TGB: Aquila Golan
"Before I refuse to take your questions, I have an opening statement." -Ronald Reagan


November 30, 2017, 01:38:03 PM
Reply #155
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Sam's blast hurls the Corrupt away from her, giving the other Samanthas a killing space.  Deftly avoiding the streams of black bile from the chronovores, the others almost instinctively form a protective ring around Sam.


The Ferro'khin fall among the Corruption like farmers against wheat - their natural enemies before them, Isaac's people enter the fray and are soon deep in the joy of killing; their bodies unnaturally fast in the dark and shifting light.  Mother Reyna slapped Isaac on the back of the head as she waded in, her green glass knife already dark with the Corruption.  "You're late, boy."

The Dark Mason raises her gauntlet, shoving the Mason aside while reaching into her pocket with her other hand.  Drawing out a golden sphere the size of a marble, she snarls, "I don't know why you're even trying, me.  I've already won, and you're just delaying the inevitable."  She squeezes the sphere, gently, and the building shakes.  "This is the last piece of the machinery of the HUB... which I had mined with naquadriah-enhanced anti-matter weapons, and anyone still on the HUB will most likely be erased in the next few minutes when they explode."  She squeezes it again, and the building rumbles and shakes further.  Tiny cracks begin forming on the face of the perfect golden shell, and a brilliant light can be seen within. 

Rail rained blows on Leon, grunting with exertion before answering.  "How can I not want to do this?" she retorts hotly.  "You're not the one shattered across the multiverse, searching for the center of yourself.  The real you."  Her eyes lock on Rosie's, and the doctor seems frozen in place.  "Give me my life!" Dalla screams, launching herself at Rosie.

Behind the Masons, Isaac can see a figure in a dark cloak, hunched over as if concealing something, moving surreptitiously closer to the Masons...
"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


December 09, 2017, 06:46:03 PM
Reply #156
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"NO!" Leon cried out, de-igniting his sword and sweeping it under Dalla's legs as she ran by "The corruption that surrounds you will consume you both! I will not allow it." Reaching sharply back a second later, Leon swatted her aside the head with the core of his sword, hoping to somehow bear her unconscious or stun her.

"If you truly are of Rosie Martins, then there must remain some part of you that trusts in me. That trusts in humanity! Some part that remains to stave off this hatred and evil. If you're in there, now is the time regain yourself. Fight the corruption and we can help end this, together!"

[Strength d10 + Swords d12 + 1pp = 16]
https://www.dholeshouse.org/Tools/DiceVerifier?RID=08b3be5e-87b6-427d-927b-b6f2e201b84d
[Strength d10 + Swords d10 = 18]
https://www.dholeshouse.org/Tools/DiceVerifier?RID=070138b6-a26e-4ff8-9f54-e3bd6ef535d4
[Damage d8 = 6]
https://www.dholeshouse.org/Tools/DiceVerifier?RID=35d27d58-580c-4d59-8dd7-2b8219d93d47

(Any possibility of using his speech ability to convince Dalla Rail to try and stave off the Corruption? And if so, any bonuses for her basically being a piece of Rosie and looking exactly like her?)
PbP Campaign history
AitD: Elliot and Alice Jeru
BNW: Leon Artest
Successfully concluded campaigns
TGB: Aquila Golan
"Before I refuse to take your questions, I have an opening statement." -Ronald Reagan


January 31, 2018, 04:47:51 PM
Reply #157
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Leon's trip tangled Dalla's legs and the butt of his blade caught her temple.  Staggering back, the Corrupted woman grasped her temple and fell to a knee.

Quote
Leon - roll a Vitality+Persuasion+Love for me.
"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


February 01, 2018, 12:48:27 AM
Reply #158
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Caught in the temple by Leon's counter, Dalla lay defenseless on her knees; her defenses open and spared only by the Lord-Captain's mercy. "You're stronger than this. Faster. Deadlier." Leon started to say, pointing his sword at Dalla, gingerly using it to brush a lock of her steadily corrupting golden hair out of her face "You know every flawed fiber of my anatomy back to front and all of my sword forms and yet you're holding back. That tells me... that something is amiss within you. You don't want to do this." He shook his head.

For a moment, Dalla seemed to look beyond the point of Leon's cutlass at her throat and straight up at him. It amazed him that although he knew he was protecting the love of his life just over his shoulder, he knew deep down he was trying desperately to save her at the point of his sword. These women were of the same flesh. Two tragic possibilities that could have happened, and did. And now he was facing all of his shattered destinies at once. "Don't give in. Not when you are so close. You and I have never given in, not from the day we first met. When we were searching for buried treasure in the jungle. You didn't give up on me then, even when you had every reason. And I never stopped trying with all my heart to gain your trust, because I needed you."

"I always have. I always will." he told her, looking for any sign he was getting through to her, looking for that same look of love he used to know "Trust in me. And we can finish this as we were meant to. Reunited."

[Vitality d8 + Persuasion d8 + Love d8 = 16]
https://www.dholeshouse.org/Tools/DiceVerifier?RID=b0a5e69f-1d52-4df8-b624-204550ff4109
PbP Campaign history
AitD: Elliot and Alice Jeru
BNW: Leon Artest
Successfully concluded campaigns
TGB: Aquila Golan
"Before I refuse to take your questions, I have an opening statement." -Ronald Reagan


February 06, 2018, 09:53:27 AM
Reply #159
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Suriya made a grasping gesture, and stone hands erupted from the floor, seizing the Dark Mason and pulling her to her knees.  With an impossibly long and high leap, the detective landed beside the two Masons and kicked the golden sphere from the Dark Mason's hand.  The tiny orb sailed into the dark like a comet, brilliant golden light streaming behind it.

Shaking with the effort of it, Suriya screamed, "Someone get the orb - I can't hold her!"


"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


February 07, 2018, 02:18:44 AM
Reply #160
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agi+dodge 1d8 : 8,  8
 1d10 : 5,  5
   Grand Total=13

Maj. Samatha Carter
  US Air Force pilot, astrophysicist
      P-90, Beretta 9 mm, Kara kesh, Zat'nik'tel
        Strange Plasma Gun
      LP: 32/32 W:0 S:0
      0/12 PP 6 AP

Sam Ducks and slips past the few corrupted between her and the tossed orb, crossing the distance at a fast pace, to scoop up the artifact and protect it.

Her left hand still poised ahead of her to “push” aside any who confront her.
-Mac


GM: BumpInTheBlack
Player: D:LH, SAHC, BNW


March 19, 2018, 10:21:29 PM
Reply #161
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Dalla looked at Leon with a mixture of love and revulsion, as if the two sides of her were warring within her.  He glanced back for a moment to reassure Rosie, and in that moment Dalla leapt forward, shoving Leon aside and embracing her duplicate. 

There was a momentary scream, two voices joining into one, as Dalla and Rosie merged together, light flickering around them as the two women became one.  Hundreds of faces, all the versions of Rosie from across the Multiverse flashed across her countenance as she stood there, shaking as the two united. The Corruption melted off her, squealing in a frequency almost too high to hear.  Rosie/Dalla stood dazed for a moment, staring at her own hands in wonder.  “We… I… Leon...“ her eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed into Leon’s arms.

Leon held her up, his eyes wide with confusion and dismay, his weapons forgotten as he held Rosie/Dalla. 


Jergen and Rendon danced back and forth, their blades lit by the lightning each had gathered around them.  Flashes of light illuminated the room as they clashed and then danced apart, each one measuring the other’s prowess as they breathed heavily.  Rendon threw a bolt of witch-fire at Jergen, who blocked it and sent a blast of lightning back.  The circled each other, searching for an opening.

With a shout they came together, blades ringing like hammers on anvils, each striving to overcome the other.  Sweat poured off them, and finally Jergen drove Caliburn’s quillons against Rendon, throwing him off balance.  Stepping in to press the advantage, Jergen forced the prince to his knees, standing over him and panting. 

Holding Caliburn ready, Jergen said, “Prince Rendon, as Knight-Protector of the Realm, for the deaths of the King and Queen, and for Kat, I sentence you to  ARGH!” Rendon drove the dagger he had been concealing into Jergen’s leg, and started to rise, grasping his sword.

Sam cradled the orb, her karakesh ready to force away any of the Corrupted who came near.  Ferro’khin and the other Sams stood guard over her, in an ever widening circle as the chronovores were forced back or dispatched.  The orb was warm, like a freshly hatched egg, but from the cracks a golden light leaked.  Wherever the light touched, things changed… a part of her uniform became blue instead of green, while another became black and gold-trimmed silk.  Sam watched as her alternates, the other Sams, began fading away, while memories of other lives began flooding into her.  The orb was leaking realities, it seemed, drawing them together around her.  She understood then how the Mason’s TARDIS has split her timelines across all the Multiverse, and how the Mason must feel with the hundreds and thousands of years of experience.  Places and faces flashed before her eyes, hundreds of lives on hundreds of worlds, each one only subtly different, all of them her.  The circle around her shrank as the other Sams vanished, leaving only the Ferro’khin surrounding the shuddering, glowing form of Samantha Carter.


Isaac moved through the remaining Corrupted, his blades hungrily devouring their essence.  Even compared to the other Ferro’khin, Iseriac was fast, and his eyes shone with an inhuman ferocity.  Isaac could feel his soul being consumed as he powered through the enemy, their darkness giving way before him like fire before a flood.  Memories and names slipped away with every strike, faces disappeared into the blades with every blow. 

In his mind, he kept repeating, I am Isaac Crass.  I am a riftwalker, and a Ferro’khin.  I am the Last Heir.  I am Isaac Crass.  I am Ferro’khin.  I am a riftwalker.  I am Isaac Crass.  I am Isaac Crass.  I am Isaac... 

Suriya stood over the Dark Mason, her teeth clenched in the effort to contain the rogue Time Lord.  after a moment, the rocks crumble to dust, leaving the Dark Mason free.  She stand, resigned, as Suriya moves to attack her - instead, the Dark Mason holds up her gauntlet and freezes the whole battlefield. 

“Look at you.”  she sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose.  “All of you - fighting, warring, killing senselessly.  SO much suffering.  I can’t stand it anymore.”  She walks daintily through the frozen hall, her heels clicking lightly on the stone floor.  She leans over Samantha and pries the orb from her fingers as Sam can only watch helplessly.

“To think of what I shall do when this is over,” she muses, holding the orb up to examine it like a rare gem.  “I suppose I’ll be busy for a few thousand years - you know what that’s like now, don’t you, Carter? But I’ll make it all better.  Cleaner.  Starting with muons, I never liked muons much, too much instability there, but neutrinos, neutrinos were certainly my favorite, needs more neutrinos, add that to the list…”  The Dark Mason continues to chatter as she walks around, the air growing steadily hotter as she talks. 

Isaac sees it first from the corner of his eye - one of the shadowy figures moves slightly as the Dark Mason’s back is turned.  With a shifting, almost preternatural grace, the figure slides toward the rogue Time Lord, keeping itself in shadows.

The Dark Mason makes her way back towards the where the Light Mason is sprawled.  She pats her hair and then sits next to her, stroking her gently.

“Don’t worry, Mason.  I won’t forget you, but I will make sure that this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.”  The orb begins to glow brighter, and the Dark Mason holds it aloft for the last time.  “What wonders there will be…” she says as she gazes into it, the room becoming uncomfortably hot.

The dark figure moves with a sudden leap, his green glass blade in his hand, slashing across the throat of the Dark Mason.  His hood falls back to reveal Jack Larabe, his brooch glowing at his throat. 

The moment the blade touches her skin, the Dark Mason convulses, and the green glass of the memory knife begins to glow as it draws her memories into it.  Time restores itself, and the Mason reaches out a hand to grab the orb a second before it touches the ground. 

In that instant of time’s restoration, Jergen slashes downward with Caliburn, and Rohmer’s head rolls from his body, a shocked expression on his face before he crumbles to dust.

Suriya grabs Jack, looking between him and the Dark Mason, who lies unconscious at his feet, her gauntlet still glowing gently. 

The corruption turn as one towards Isaac.  It is over, for now, one says, and the mycelium begins to crumble to dust, shaking off from former hosts and then vanishing.
"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


March 29, 2018, 12:57:54 AM
Reply #162
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Leon looked back and forth, sinking to the ground and clutching Rosie tightly in his arms. His sword de-ignited and his laslock clattered as he rushed to support her head. The entire fight seeming forgotten in all the commotion, the captain merely held his beloved woman in his arms, shielding her as he had never shielded before. Behind him, Jergen achieved his revenge and Jack Larabe set upon Dark Mason, ending her once and for all.

Seconds later, it was all over and the dust of combat rolled away, leaving Rosie... or what Leon could only hope was still her, motionless in his grasp. "Rosie..." he finally said, adjusting his grip so she rested on his knee "Rosie. It's over, my love. We finally did it. We won."

No answer.

"Rosie? Rosie, please. It's me, it's Leon. Please! Please answer me!" Leon begged, tapping his fingers lightly upon her breast. Still no answer. The doctor remained motionless in his arms, her face serene and her golden hair falling carelessly on either side, as though she were sleeping. Slowly, Leon began to weep. "No. No... What have I-?"

His weeping gave way to bitter sobs as tears obscured his vision.

"What have I done?"
PbP Campaign history
AitD: Elliot and Alice Jeru
BNW: Leon Artest
Successfully concluded campaigns
TGB: Aquila Golan
"Before I refuse to take your questions, I have an opening statement." -Ronald Reagan


April 18, 2018, 03:31:00 PM
Reply #163
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Rosie’s/Dalla’s eyes fluttered open as Leon held her.  “Leon?” she said weakly.

Leon was alarmed.  He voice had held a doubled timbre, as if two people were speaking, slightly out of time with one another.  Her eyes focused on him, and he noted that her eyes were now brown, instead of blue.  She shook her head and blinked several times, before moving to stand.  She wobbled a little and leaned on Leon’s arm, touching his face.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern coloring her twin voices.  Her eyes widened as she heard herself, and she touched her throat.

“I.. we..”  She began breathing heavily, eyes darting from side to side.  “B-both?!”  She grabbed at Leon, before pushing him away. 

“You should leave me.”  Rosie’s voices were ragged, and she covered her face with her hands. 


Jergen dropped to his knees with a sigh, holding himself up with Caliburn.  Kat would be proud, Caliburn said gently.  You helped save the world, every world, just for her.

“But it doesn’t matter if she’s still gone,” Jergen said, tears dripping down his face. 

Look at Isaac, the sword replied. He believed that his people were gone, and he was the last - yet here they are.  Maybe out in the Multiverse there is some way of undoing what’s been done, without causing the Corruption to come back, he amended.
Jergen looked at the pile of dust where Rendon had been.  “Perhaps,” he said, drying his face and standing once more.  “I’ll always keep looking.”

Suriya held Jack’s arm, but he lifted the memory knife and tossed it away, raising his hands in surrender.  “I know you won’t trust this, Sunny, but lemme say Detective… you was right.   Sometimes you gotta dive so deep in th’Abyss you can’t see nothin’ but then you get that one little spark, far in th’ distance.  I done wrong - there’s more blood on my hands than I care to admit.  But I ain’t like that. He nodded in the direction of the Dark Mason’s still form.

Meanwhile the Mason cradled the orb in her hand, staring at it with weary eyes and slumped shoulders - though it was her younger self that was defeated, the current Mason looked similarly vanquished.   She knelt upon the ground, one palm to her forehead.

"Why?"  The Mason's voice was tremulous.

Suriya pursed her lips and dropped Jack’s arm.  She glanced at Isaac & Jergen, then back at the Mason.  “Mason?” she asked cautiously, moving carefully towards the Time Lord.

“Why couldn’t you…” The Mason sighed, placed the orb carefully in her pocket, and covered her face with both hands.

“Couldn’t what?” Suriya queried, standing as if torn between the Mason and Jack.  There were no rules for handling this kind of situation.  Where one's greatest enemy has also been a steadfast ally: what possible social protocol could exist for navigating this kind of circumstance?  Conflicting emotions passed across Suriya’s face as she stood, rooted to the spot.

"Refute her."  The Mason raised her head, and her voice followed suit, filled with pain and disappointment.  "Why couldn't any of you put forth even a single argument to contradict her?"  The anger in her tone was quiet, yet its mere existence placed everyone on edge, igniting a fear that the fight was not yet over.

"We stopped her."  Suriya calmly stated, hoping to avoid any escalation.

The Mason shook her head.  "No.  No you fought.  All of you disagreed with her and fought her, but none of you refuted her.  None of you said anything that could prove her wrong."  The Mason turned sideways, placing her hand on her face again.


Suriya took the gamble on stepping closer, to within the range that she could sit beside the Mason without directly confronting her.  "She was wrong, and what she planned was wrong."  Suriya quietly stated.


"Yes, yes of course I was!"  Exasperation escaped the bars of her fingers.  "But I just..."  she sighed. "The problem still exists.  The problem she was trying to solve.  No, her plan... my plan would never have succeeded.  I can't fix the multiverse by recreating it.  But I so desperately wished there'd been something, some reason to believe it was fine as is."

“You do the job that is in front of you,” Suriya said, “And then you fix what you can.  Sometimes things are too broken to be fixed, but they often only look that way at first glance.”

The Mason snorted, then turned to look at the detective, her now-white hair sliding over her shoulders and hiding her face.   "Imagine a patient, living in agony, metastatic cancer throughout their body.  Unimaginable pain.  If you kill the doctor that wishes to perform a euthanasia, have you really helped the patient?"  She looked up at towards the ceiling, before turning back to Suriya.  "Is there even a right answer to that question?"

It was Suriya’s turn to look down, at her feet, her sword, anywhere but meeting the Mason’s gaze.  “Regardless - that’s not your decision to make.”

Wordlessly The Mason looked at Suriya, and then stared off again.  "I wonder how many would believe that without the benefit of hindsight.  When things get so bad, how often is any person tempted by the prospect of a fresh start?"

"For some things... maybe.  But not all."  Suriya lightly placed a hand on The Mason's shoulder.  "Often, the easy solution is tempting, but sometimes repairing what we have is the correct course of action."

The Mason leaned against Suriya’s shoulder, wanting to agree but conflicted over what she felt, because of the intense suffering she had felt in... well... everything.  "Repairing.  Do you understand what it would take to repair the Multiverse?”

Suriya kept a poker face her gaze locked with the Mason, silently quirking an eyebrow at her.

The Mason stood up and paced, as though this had long been a frustration in the back of her mind.  "The cascade of infinite possibilities.  Parallel dimensions where every bad outcome for a choice made in good intentions exists.  Countless beings that define their existence as good by ensuring there are others that suffer in comparison.  To combat the unending injustices that constantly eat away at the very soul of the multiverse would be an undertaking of impossible magnitude."

"Well, we’d best get on it then."  Suriya stood up.  "We do the impossible, and hang the odds."

The Mason inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.  "I'm not talking about fixing one threat.  I'm talking about all threats.  To even begin to address such widespread tragedy I'd need a machine even more powerful than a TARDIS.  Not just an eleventh dimensional construct but a twelfth dimensional one.  Something that has existed for as long as the multiverse has, recording everything so that one day it could all be analyzed.  Even then, I wouldn't live long enough to address all the problems.  I'd need countless helpers, teams of trained individuals that know how to combat these problems without creating new ones."

The Mason placed her hands on her hips, grunting in frustration as she bitterly looked down at the ground.

“Sounds a bit like the Hub’s cells,” Suriya remarked absently.

The whites of her eyes were particularly bright as her gaze widened.  Gradually her head lifted, until her epiphany fueled expression was staring unfocused in to the distance.  "My goodness.  I don't believe it."

Suriya and the others turned their heads to look in the same direction, but there was nothing there.  When they turned back The Mason was pacing once more, but this time with an anxious energy.  "It couldn't be.  I couldn't have.  Could I?"

"Could what?  What are you on about?"  Suriya pressed.

The Mason stopped, looking electric with shock, but her posture gently calmed as she directed her attention to Suriya.  "I... have work to do."

Suriya crossed her arms skeptically.  "And do we need to be worried?"  Her tone carried a matronly quality, and she darted her eyes towards that of the unconscious Mason to drive home her point.

The current Mason looked over at the unmoving figure of her younger self, and then back to Suriya.  In a calm and reassuring tone, "No Sunny.  No you needn't be."

The Mason stepped away, walking stoically towards her younger self as The Mentor stood nearby.  His eyes followed her for a moment, then he looked at Suriya and locked eyes with her.  “It won’t work as she thinks,” he murmured, pitching his voice so that only the detective can hear.  “There is one who can do this, but, as with all worthwhile things, there will be… sacrifices.”  He turned, and she followed his gaze to where Isaac and the other Ferro’khin stood.  Suriya’s eyes widened in understanding.  “Oh no…” she whispered.


Isaac stopped, breathing heavily as his body came down from the quickness.  His arms wanted to drop his weapons, but the blades clung to his hands as if bonded with them.  With effort, he released the swords and sheathed them as the first of the Ferro’khin stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder.  Others came forward then, and placed their hands in an ever widening web of living Ferro’khin.  His people, Isaac realized, sharing their strength with him.  The ashes were unmade, somehow, the leaf reborn in this final darkness. 

The Mentor stepped up to Isaac as well, holding his arm our imperiously. “Come,” he ordered, “Your gods made one more task for you - for all of you,” he added, his eyes sweeping over the assembled Ferro’khin.

The Time Lord led Isaac and the other outside the building, to where the harsh landscape was burned with the twin bright light of the disintigrating TARDIS and the black hole.  The sky above was dotted with brilliant specks, like stars, as the dalek saucers burned and fell into the atmosphere.


  The Mentor produced the flowers, the Tears of Illior, and presented them to Isaac with a small flourish. 

“The multiverse bleeds, Ferro’khin.  Heal it.”

Isaac touched the Mentor’s hand briefly as the flowers were passed to him.  Centuries and millennia of memories washed over him, but always in the forefront was another, sometimes a young man, sometimes an old one; and then several times the Mason in her various incarnations - The Mentor’s name, it seemed, was quite apt when it came to the Mason.

Isaac swallowed and nodded.  “You know what you ask, Great One?” he murmured, before taking the white handled blade in his left hand. 

The Mentor nodded in return.  “Some inkling.”

"You were made to serve.  To live, and serve, and to die, as your masters saw fit."  Hastur’s words came of a sudden to Isaac’s mind.  The King in Yellow must have known, then, that they walked with their own enemy in their midst, in the form of the Mason.  He must have seen that Isaac would die, to use his wound-sharing to heal what remained of the Multiverse.  He tasted bile in his throat at the pain he knew was about to come.

Isaac licked his lips and eyed the flowers.  With a slight shrug, he stuffed them in his mouth and began chewing stolidly, while the air around his swords seemed to hum.  The blades began to sing as Isaac swept it up before him, feeling a Rift where none should be, and his blood sang in response as he called its power forth. 

Isaac could feel all the other behind and around him, but barely, as merely an anchor to his flesh.  The flower’s nectar burned in his veins and stomach, fire feeling like it coursed behind his eyes. 

The swords hummed with power, and Isaac began sweeping them in the complicated form the Old One has taught him so long ago.  Light and dark intertwined as the Rifts began to pull apart, merging and melding, reality changing before him as he pulled the damage into himself.  Isaac felt rather than heard the screams torn from his throat as he began to knit the fabric of reality with his blood. 

A hand suddenly grasped his shoulder.  Mother Rayna.  Another - Calderon.  Carver.  Others whose names he had forgotten or never known, each sharing their blood with him, their power surging into him like a stream.  The pain lessened for a moment, shared among so many - then the force of it redoubled as those closest nearly dropped from the strain.  Isaac’s mind could barely hold focus, but he could feel blood dripping out of the Ferro’khin from eyes and ears, their bodies unable to heal themselves as they healed the Multiverse.

I am Isaac Crass.  I am Ferro’khin.  I was made to live, to serve, and to die.  Isaac repeated the mantra as he knitted time and space into their proper forms, forcing the Corruption into their own space, feeling the pain strengthen each time one of the Ferro’khin dropped from exhaustion.  The fire of the Tears kept his body from disintegrating, but the others were not as lucky -  their hands and feet burned, their bones twisted, flesh weakened from the healing forced upon them.

Realities swirled around him.  He lost himself in an unending stream of time and space, but he could still feel the anchoring pain of the Ferro’khin. At the edge of his awareness was the steady rock of Sam Carter, all of her lives; the self-contained chaos of the Mentor & the Mason, the ripples of them across space and time; Jergen, his thoughts reminding him of the weapon Hastur had given him; Leon and Rosie’s/Dalla’s love, the three of them a tightly interwining ball; and finally Suriya.  He could feel her horror at what Isaac had taken on, her fear of what would happen to him - but beneath it, pride and a stubborn refusal to accept things as they were. 

And then beyond them, his compatriots - Jack.  The only one who who could even possibly comprehend him. Acceptance and grief at the thought of losing Isaac.  Guilt at having helped caused this evil.

Distantly, in the dark shadows beyond, Isaac could feel… Them.  The Old Ones.  The Makers of him and his kind, eyeing the new reality he was shaping… hungrily.

Thoughts came to him, memories.  Suriya, defying Ares.  The Mason, taunting Apophis.  Leon, protecting Rosie from the guns of the One’s guardsmen.  Jergen throwing his shield over Leon’s unprotected back.  Samantha’s vessel striking across the void at vessels so much larger than hers.

More memories - of Athena at the gods’ ball, telling how they had ordered the deaths of the Ferro’khin.  “The Ferro'khin were designed as weapons, for a war that should never be fought.   That weapon was - removed from consideration."  Bad Seeds.  The lion-headed goddess Sekhmet: “Should any of your gods have survived, we would kill them too.”

Yet here they were, at the very end.  Waiting.  Isaac imagined for a moment what would happen if the Old Ones entered this new realm, and the gods, the other gods, found them.  “Any battle between our pantheon and theirs would have devastated entire realms, mortal.”  It would undo all the healing he and the others had done, Isaac realized.  It would end all the worlds just as they were being born.

No.  Isaac’s thought sent a shockwave through the Old Ones.  Never had one of their creations openly defied them like that before (not for more than a moment, at least).  They surged towards the realm he was building and Isaac pushed at them, forced them away from it. 

Why.    The Voice within him demanded.


"Honestly, I swear to drunk I'm not God."
"Does this smell like chloroform to you?"
"Nothing in the Verse can stop me."


April 18, 2018, 06:03:23 PM
Reply #164
  • Warhorse
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Rosie’s/Dalla’s eyes fluttered open as Leon held her.  “Leon?” she said weakly.

Leon was alarmed.  He voice had held a doubled timbre, as if two people were speaking, slightly out of time with one another.  Her eyes focused on him, and he noted that her eyes were now brown, instead of blue.  She shook her head and blinked several times, before moving to stand.  She wobbled a little and leaned on Leon’s arm, touching his face.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern coloring her twin voices.  Her eyes widened as she heard herself, and she touched her throat.

“I.. we..”  She began breathing heavily, eyes darting from side to side.  “B-both?!”  She grabbed at Leon, before pushing him away. 

“You should leave me.”  Rosie’s voices were ragged, and she covered her face with her hands.

"Wha-" Leon breathed upon hearing her speak. What had happened? The combination of their beings had resulted in some sort of a dual being. Two spirits in one body? If that were true, what had happened to Dalla's body? And the voices? And everything else? The questions came all at once and shock was plainly apparent on the void captain's face.

After the initial alarm had wore off, Leon took Rosie by her wrists, parting her hands from in front of her face. She resisted at first, but slowly her hands were moved down to her sides as Leon looked into her eyes. They snapped shut and Rosie looked down and away, containing a sob.

Rosie. That was still who Leon saw. Through the vocal oddity and the seeming loss of her beautiful sapphire eyes, Leon nonetheless still saw the woman he fell in love with. "You're alive. For the moment that is all that matters." he told her, gently pulling her closer to meet his gaze "I thought that you had left me forever. I certainly will not leave you now."

(What did Rosie's ring finger look like when it was being moved away from her face? Did she still have the engagement knot?)
PbP Campaign history
AitD: Elliot and Alice Jeru
BNW: Leon Artest
Successfully concluded campaigns
TGB: Aquila Golan
"Before I refuse to take your questions, I have an opening statement." -Ronald Reagan