Flipz

Dear mother of Abraham Lincoln, that was long. I haven't written a proper Wall of Text in a long time. It's also funny--I managed to get into conversation with the exact right Heroes at the exact right time to tie into all of their storylines at once.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Really? Dyric's one of the most tolerant and respectful people I know--Hel, he befriended me back when I considered myself a rival to Zoot himself, and from what I've heard he was one of the only ones suggesting the party not leave me to die while I was unconscious. And Thothwick...well, I'm not sure what to think of him. At first I thought he was a judgemental prick, what with his self-righteous attitude towards Witches and all...but then I saw what evils Witches can wreak. I will never, ever forgive Atramor for killing our friends down in the Temple of Zoot, nor for leaving Triad to die, and I'm told he murdered other innocents in Dastan, including taking arms against another party of Heroes and blowing up most of his own troops in his mad assault on the others. And that's not even counting Baba brainwashing the leaders of the Houses to do her bidding..." Arthur shrugs. He seems not to have noticed Karie's new class. "I don't know if his witch hunt is exactly the best thing, but I know he's got reason for it--and he's definitely not heartless. When many of us, Heroes and allies alike, lay on the floor of the temple beneath this Hall, he was the only one who bothered to check to see if I was still alive." He pauses to consider. "Then again, it was his advice that led me to want to join the Watch..." He shrugs, not sure himself what his feelings were about the Metasimian. "'Dereliction of Duty' and being 'Absent Without Official Leave.' Which is rich, considering Lillith did, in fact, order me to take some time off to find myself." He snorts. "Why you don't like Patricia, Karie. I spoke to many other Watchmen during my time with them and at the Barracks, you know. There are a sizable chunk--a few high-rankers included--who feel the same way as me about Kayla's death. I'm starting to wonder if the root of the problem lies at the head of the Watch, not at its branches. A regime change might be in order if they keep it up." Arthur bowed his head and closed his eyes. "The sins of the past," he murmurs. He looks back up at Karie, his eyes somehow a little brighter and yet the pupils more inkily black than they had been a moment before. He reaches into his tunic with his left hand, extracting a quivering, inky orb--the Zoot's Plaything. He turns his hand, allowing the viscous fluid to splatter onto the table before reforming into its orblike form. The sticky black liquid adheres to the cloth wrapped around the wrist and palm, pulling it partly away and revealing a flash of a sickly bright yellow scar before Arthur catches it back up with his other hand, allowing the rest of the sinister ink to relinquish its grip on the gauzy fabric and congeal into its normal existence. "Is that the sort of ink you saw, Karie--Althior?" He looks back and forth between the two faces for confirmation, but can see the truth written in their eyes. "'Congratulations,' you've seen true manifestations of Chaos, of the fabric of the Void." Arthur releases his breath and allows his head to slump into his hand, elbow resting on the table. He turns an impossibly tired gaze to Sorrow. "Mephisto the Hungry is one of the archdemons of Zoot, the other two being Marilith the Vengeful and Abraxas the Proud, whose favor I once held. Maybe still do--I always have been an arrogant little snotrag, and Abraxas is into that sort of thing. Anyway, the three are some of Zoot's most powerful minions in this world--but do not doubt he has many others. They were sealed in the Temple beneath our feet long, long ago, but Zed and Sycamore Zeigfried released Abraxas long ago as part of their dark necromantic rites. No offense, Sorrow, Althior," he says with a nod to the two. "Althior can tell you more about Abraxas, whom he faced in his first Quest for Heroica, and Thalion here--oh, how rude of me, Thalion, Sorrow the Assassin and Althior the Necromancer, Sorrow and Althior, Thalion Dwinlas, Sorcerer. He's a good friend of mine from my Quest for the Ji Pei. We never did find out if that automaton made it to its buyer, did we?" He chuckles. "Anyhow, Thalion here faced Mephisto in person and helped to banish him back to Zoot, and I ended up beating down a sliver of Mephisto's soul that one of the Old Gods--the Master of Regret, to be precise--decided to capture and feed to this one idiot who consumed it in a mad bid for power. I could give you more detail, entire pages out of the Pandemonicon itself, but I...try not to access those memories unless I have to." He taps his head, a sad smile on his face. "Yeah, I've got my own personal copy. It's what happens if you manage to read the whole thing through, provided you don't lose your sanity. Or Hel, if I'm the example, even if you do. Every bit of it--a never-ending series of sickening images, cants so old they were spoken almost before time itself came into being, inscriptions to powerful spells of unspeakable evil. Everything Karie spoke of, and more, every singe day, sometimes even seeping into your dreams. It's like a scar--the knowledge never leaves your mind." "And that's all Chaos is, in a way. A series of scars, torn in reality itself to commemorate the enormous transgressions Chaos-users commit against it. Chaos is all about scars, actually, and those marked can never truly escape it." He hesitates, then slowly removes Hans' bandage from his left hand, revealing the horrid marks of his attempt to drain Guffington's Spire of its Chaos. "I got this trying to strengthen myself by draining the power of the Spire of Chaos that Guffington Manor is built around. A lot of the great buildings in this city are built around the Doors to Chaos, you know--they were kept open, just barely, by the Old Gods, allowing the Chaotic power to feed the people around them, elevating them to greatness...and thus, the Houses were born." Arthur's hand twitches and shudders, and he quickly re-wraps it before digging into his pack for his Overkill Gloves and slipping them on. "For my trouble, I got that scar, a mental chat with the three Archdemons from the Temple, and mental scarring to last a lifetime. I'm told I began speaking with a traditional Zootist undertone for a bit, though it was barely perceptible to me." Arthur sighs heavily. "Long story short, Sorrow, they're bad news, and I once sided with them. If they're back, and if someone's trying to harness them, then it's my job to pay for my sins by facing them--to the end if I have to, and beyond. I have no doubt I'll be drawn into the Void upon my destruction--maybe it's time I took a look into the old rites, see if my spirit can last long enough to make a difference from the other side." To most, Arthur's non-use of the word 'death' might seem normal, but something in his phrasing struck Althior and Sorrow, with their experiences of necromancy, as a little odd.

Shazam! You now know how Zepher feels in any of his Chaos-themed Quests. I think I've discovered the real reason everyone believes Chaos is evil. It isn't anything to do with dark, forbidden demonic powers...it's the bloody word puzzles.

"Well, there's not much more to say. Quest in R'klif only lasted a few days, but thanks to the Veterans and their time-glitches, we ended up missing for nearly five months. I come back home, ready for work and a well-earned promotion I'd heard was coming my way, only to find Patricia had fired me." He rolls his eyes. "Ended up going out to Bric'bay for a couple of days. From the sound of things, I'd just missed Lord Knyghton--Sir Leofard said he had some business to attend to in Eubric. Anyway, he gave me this--" Arthur pulls his off his coat-of-arms, revealing an elegant red shirt furred collar, fastened with a brooch bearing the head of a lion. "--and told me that next time Luke was around to patch us up, he'd teach me to become a Skirmisher in their ranks." Arthur leaves the armor beside him, relishing the temporary freedom from the heavy, constricting metal. "It's nice to know that some people will appreciate what you've done for them--unlike some people in this town." Arthur shakes his head.

Oh my god. I just realized that XX could be interpreted as a younger version of the Dos Equis guy.

I was mainly talking sheer numbers.

Jeez, Pie, Zeph, the first battle of your Quests looks closer to my Quest's finale. *starts buffing everything*

If only we could swap reputation...I have a Hinckwell rep I want to change to Shadeaux, and you have a Shadeaux rep you want to change to Hinckwell.

Arthur's ears perk up at a name he'd hoped he'd never hear again. "Did someone mention Mephisto? Is he back already?!? Why won't that thing just stay banished..." He stands up and looks for the source. "Dear gods...Thalion Dwinlas, is that you? Good lord, you've changed a lot since our last Quest together! I see you followed my example for an Advanced Class." Arthur raises his shield. "I've changed a bit, too." He grins. "Come on over here, I have some friends I'd like you to meet. We were just forming a team to visit the Fields of Glory, are you interested in joining us?"

Question because I've managed to confuse myself: if a Hero is immune to elemental damage of one element, but is hit by an attack that's dual-elemental (i.e. Guts hits Sorrow with Lifestealer in the Arena, Atramor imbues only a Ruby into his Galactic Armor and then runs into a sandstorm in the desert), is the damage unaffected by the immunity because it is of an element the Hero is not immune to?

"Then let us begin." Arthur signs himself, Sorrow, Karie, and Althior for the Fields of Glory.

Arthur conjures up his own chair, a sturdy thing cast out of pure stone. The design would have been quite pleasing if it weren't for the fact that not a single line was smooth nor straight. The mage sighs. "I'm getting out of practice. 'S what I get for focusing on my non-magical skills, I suppose." He takes a large gulp of his ale, then winces at the bitter taste. "Took a recreational trip to R'klif--if you can call politics and military skirmishes 'recreation.' Wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the little pest who went with us. I still can't believe the Veterans let him into the Hall." Arthur looks at his tankard, considering taking another sip, then pushes the cup away. "Even helped out one of the Shadeaux's top-ranking men, and the ungrateful bastard didn't even thank us. I guess De'kra was right about Shawe after all. At least our employer paid well, though. Was able to buy a nice couple of things off of other Heroes, even bought one of those lovely pumpkin dealies Elphaba was selling. For emergencies only of course." Arthur sees Althior standing alone and motions him come over to join the group at the table. "Althior, over here. You know Sorrow, of course, and this here's another good friend of mine, Karie." He listens to the Necromancer talk and nods approvingly. "Let's do it then. Hmm, we'll need a few more Heroes to round things out--and I think I know just the two." Arthur looks over to Sorrow and Karie. "What do you say? In for a brief outing in the Fields?"

Arthur gets up and stretches--it seemed Althior had his mind on other things, and was at the moment unwilling to talk further. He walks over to the bar for a glass of ale, and happens to overhear a snippet of conversation. "I'll drink to that," he mentions moodily.

Personally, I'd like for Hawkeye and Black Widow (and heck, even more Maria Hill) to show up in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. so they can get some development going on. I mean, yes, they'd overshadow the main team for those episodes, but frankly the show is playing its cards WAY too fast, revealing things really, really quickly, leaving fewer and fewer mysteries to keep the viewers watching. A chance to delve into Barton and Romanov's past would both slow that process while simultaneously adding those two characters' mysteries into the mix. Then again, the plot is speeding by SO fast in AoS that I have to wonder if it's not getting a second season, or if perhaps it's only getting another half-season before ending for good.

"...you're one of the Old Gods. But a new one--born of a new generation of belief." "The Old Gods live off of desire, and emotion, and memory--in your case, the memory of your world. De'kra, do you remember the graves I showed you? One of them was a monument for a being named 'Passion'. He, too, was like you, an incarnation of passion, of fervor of belief." He hangs his head in shame. "If I hadn't run off, if I'd somehow managed to stop him from sacrificing himself, he could have helped you." He looks up, and stares the echo directly in the eyes. "But he has a sister. Her name is 'Hope.' If you survive your Quest, you must seek her out. For I can only save your story...but she can save your life." "Exactly." Arthur looks up at the Quest board, two new listings of selected Heroes upon it. Four more Heroes were now packing to leave--five, once De'kra finished his story and went off on his way. A short distance away, Arthur sees his own portrait hanging on the wall, a small bronze plaque beneath it bearing his name and his title. "Wish I could change that," he mutters. "It's too...well, me. It won't be long now before 'Arthur' becomes a verb. I need a new name. I was thinking of calling myself 'The Constable', but, well...that's not happening now. Hel, I can't even trust the title I do have. 'A Hero Who's Actually Worth Something'. Patricia obviously didn't believe it enough to keep me around." Too lazy to get up, Arthur pulls out his Telescope and examines the names of the chosen Heroes, sees Althior's name is not on it. "What do you say we visit the Fields, eh? It'll be like old times--you can show me around the Fields and utterly decimate everything while I run around bossing everyone around and generally pretending I'm more important than I actually am."

Always makes me happy. ...especially given they remain the only living group of NPCs Arthur hasn't managed to convince he's a monster at some point.

I'm debating whether or not I want to go into the Fields. On the one hand, a Quest that's nothing but mindless battle sounds like a good way to do SOMETHING other than sitting around the Hall. On the other, I don't want experience until I have my Shadeaux rep. Decisions, decisions...

Arthur swoops into the Marketplace and buys a Pumpkin Bomb for 60 Gold.

Don't forget that I'll be posting my Cathedral of Mercutio Quest as soon as 81 ends.

"Wait, you didn't know? One of the 'perks' of Heroica is the web of protective spells the Veterans weave around us--keep us from dying if our enemies overwhelm us, letting us talk and plan freely in the heat of battle, minimizing our wounds so we can keep fighting to the last breath, that sort of thing. 'Course, any good spell has its side-effects, as I'm sure you're aware. In this case, one of the more insidious ones is the leakage of the time stop effect, making days pass like months for some of us. Pretty sure there's a perception filter applied to it as well--not many of us notice the Veterans' protection, and I think people would get a lot more freaked out if they realized just how screwed-up the flow of time is around us." But that is the myth of the Void... Arthur decides not to debate the point further. "Then tell me, De'kra--tell me everything."

"The Void? No wonder we were drawn to each other...De'kra, the Void is the realm of Zoot. Of Chaos. It is likely no accident you were drawn to Heroica, either, what with his temple straight below." "I will remember, De'kra. I will always want to know--that's how I got into trouble with him to begin with. But you must also go--go to Byblos. With me, those memories will last for time beyond time, but only as the crazed ramblings of a lunatic. From him, your words, your stories will live--truly live--in the hearts of all who hear it. Find him--tell him--and let your stories be heard, to be kept as part of the Library for all time." "You should try a fez. My dad favored one for a bit--Mom wouldn't stand for it, though. Would you believe she shot it off his head? Twice, even, when he got himself a new one! Never did figure out why..." "Not a whole lot HAS happened. Well, I guess SOME, things, but...I helped the Watch slay the three Wolfgang generals Steerpike, Donny Dozenhands, and Violetta--was definitely a mistake, that last one--then spent my next Quest convincing another group of wannabe criminal do-gooders see the light, working alongside the sister of the woman I'd just helped to murder. That's her over there, actually." Arthur nods over in Karie's direction. "After that, I helped the Brobric sort out their mess in R'klif, bringing the city to order and fighting off two armies who wanted to conquer it. In thanks, I get caught up in a time bubble by the protective Heroica magicks and end up arriving back in town so late I find myself discharged from the Watch for 'dereliction of duty'. Funny thing is, my superior officer directly ordered me to go out on a Quest, and not one related to the Watch. Didn't stop her signing off on my dismissal, though." He snorts. "I don't know what this universe wants with me, honestly. I break the rules, I do things my own way, and I end up becoming a traitor and a villain--mostly from my own stupidity, but still, I wasn't particularly well-liked before that bit in the temple. Then I try and play by the rules, and the system chews me up, spits me out and says I wasn't good enough. Is it my fault the Veterans are stringing together spells from schools that aren't meant to be mixed?" Arthur sighs. "Whatever. I'm not leaving this Hall until I see a job that lets me do the job my way, work towards my ends--mine and nobody else's. I refuse to work to somebody else's standard, not now, not ever again." "I heard mutterings on the Highway that something big's going down at the Cathedral of Commerce. I wouldn't be surprised if they call in Heroica for help, especially considering their current High Priest used to be one of us."

Please tell me one of the members of the royal family is named "Jane". It'll be interesting to get to see this one from the outside, that's for sure.

"Thank you much, Miss Islanti. Good luck in Baltarok--and if you run into Haldor and Dyric, you can tell him I wish them luck as well." "Nope," he states bluntly. "Couldn't even keep the job with the Watch ungrateful bastards. Much as I hate to admit it, you were right, about a lot of things." "Indeed, he was. I took after him a lot, my first Quest. Of course, I was a very different person back then. It's up in the air whether or not the new model's an improvement." He pulls his own worn hat from his head, slaps it against his hand a few times, and tries to straighten it before putting it back on. If anything, the effort makes the ratty scrap of fabric look even more disheveled. "Gonna have to replace this soon. Maybe I'll just sew it into a hood instead. Would do wonders for my anonymity, anyway. Anyway, thank you for the gold. I appreciate it." Seeing De'kra approaching again, Arthur called out. "Over here, De'kra." He gestures to the 'echo'. "De'kra the Sorcerer. You might remember him, Althior, he was my pen pal at Bric'bay, helped us out a whole bunch. He's lookin' to help out the Ji Pei, and I know the two of you are hoping to be chosen to go to Baltarok, but if that falls through what say the three of us try to make a run of it in the Fields? An all-mage team...would certainly be interesting, that's for sure." "Actually, now you mention it, I haven't--I'd just noticed you sent it when I saw you in person. Why, is something wrong?" Arthur begins rummaging through his bag, looking for the still-flashing journal amidst all the clutter.

Arthur and De'kra spoke for hours, the latter regaling him with tales of victory and loss, heroism and villainy, unity, duty, and destiny. The tale could not last forever, though, and at length it finally concluded. "And that's it?" Arthur shook his head sadly. "It seems like it should have gone on." Noting the darkening sky, Arthur stands up. "Night is falling. We should return to the Hall--we can speak more there." ---------------------------------- As the Sorcerer and Mystic Knight re-entered the Hall, Arthur spotted a number of things: first, a group of Heroes packing their things in preparation for a Quest. Baltarok, no doubt, as Dyric mentioned. I do not envy those poor souls. Second, a powerfully-built Hunter he knew well, a look of waiting upon his face. Sorry, Xander. I'll get to our business in a moment--I have a slightly more pressing deal to conclude... Thirdly...a sword, sticking haphazardly out of a satchel, attached to an unfamiliar but somewhat recognizable face. Is that...? I think it must be. Thankfully Haldor appears to be busy, I'm not in the mood for another fight. Let's just get this done, and quickly. Arthur walks over to Jess. "Excuse me, miss, I couldn't help but notice that beautiful sword you're carrying. Would you be willing to part with it for 170 gold?" Arthur proffers 170 gold to Jess for the Sword of the Vampir.

"I wish I could. But too long I've been away. Focused on saving others--saving noblemen, saving the misguided, saving the fort, the village, the world. I've earned a rest--a good, long one--and some time alone to work out who I am. I am no longer Arthur the Chaomancer, the Scroll Mage, he who eschews traditional methods and fights in his own way. But neither am I Private Regulus of the Town Watch, Paragon of Order, A Hero who is Actually Worth Something. I am someone...different. And until I've figured out what, I'd be doing a disservice both to those who hire me and to those who Quest at my side." Arthur grasps the other man's arm. "Go to Baltarok in strength and courage, and know my thoughts are with you." "Perhaps you should travel with Lady Nerwen, or Lady Ellaria. Both are women of wisdom, and strong healers of courage as well. Either or both would be worthy companions in that far corner of the world."