Barock Erliebnis der Geiss (???)

MKR

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Aug 19, 2018
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#1
OE 102
January 28th, 14:14
Location: ???, ???


How long had she been here? She wondered. It was a question she kept returning to in these moments of lucidity. It couldn't have been too long as her captors just dragged that in her face... The fact that she'd been left alone, abandoned. All those that could bother or know about her being missing were far away now...
Yet it felt like an eternity had passed, seconds sometimes felt like weeks while a day could go by in moments. From where she sat, confined, unable to see the sun or hear the birds outside time had lost meaning.

Yet every waking moment was met with horror as they questioned her, or even worse left her with her thoughts. Contemplating the announcement made by Terra Sentinel, everything that had transpired before and since and of course her fate. Sleep could have been an escape of this, resting. But whenever she closed her eyes it was waiting for her. Teeth like stalactites and stalagmites interlocked yet no pleasure did it derive from her torment. Just an eternal reminder of her failure, of the tragedy, of the destruction, an eternal nightmare that awaited her.

A single light bulb dangled above her, lighting the room. Permitting her sight to function yet. Ragged blonde hair hung in front of her brown gaze but she didn't bother fixing it. There was no point. Now she was effectively waiting for her captors to finish the job, put a bullet in her brain and dump her in a ditch somewhere. But that meant she could be found, and they couldn't have that. The soft pitter patter of rain hitting a roof began, and her gaze went up. About now she'd accept any saviour the world had to offer. No that was incorrect, she was willing to do so from the beginning. To say it was only now was a lie a rather bad one at that.

Outside the holding cell a man and a woman were having a conversation, the building itself removed from civilization to avoid anyone stumbling onto it. It was not exactly the most exciting job looking over a prisoner in an 'abandoned' farm house but it had to be done, moving her too far was a bit too risky at this stage. Better to wait until Nephele was away for a while so she could do her task first before being possibly found out.

None of the three inhabitants knew, just what was coming for this 'safe' house...
 
Jul 15, 2020
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#2
...hear...

A single word...silent, inaudible, intangible. Hardly more than a figment at the edge of the imagination.

Yet, simultaneously...the sheer intensity of it as it reverberated unbidden through the woman's mind was enough to utterly shatter her own thoughts, casting them wholly to oblivion. A sudden darkness greeted her as all senses turned involuntarily inward.

There was no cell, no captors. No cold floor beneath her feet. No scent of mold permeating the air, or the taste of her own saliva on her tongue. Not even the eternal dichotomy of light and shadow were her companions, concepts that in that instant had lost all meaning.

There was only the voice.

...hear...you...

...help...you...

It crushed her beneath its weight, an indescribable agony that seemed to bore its way straight to the very heart of her being.

...you...help us...

And then...silence. Nothingness. Was this it? Was she trapped forevermore in the suffocating void, the absence of all things -

No. The world snapped back with a vengeance, reality violently reasserting itself to her senses. Pain - real pain, identifiable pain - would greet her, the dull ache of a rising bruise on her temple where she'd collapsed and struck her head tempered by the cool dampness of the concrete she still lay on.

It was difficult to say whether the voice had targeted only the woman as its true quarry, or if her captors had simply been too weak to withstand its awesome message. Judging by the way they lay crumpled in a heap with thick rivulets of fresh ichor dripping from their eyes, ears, noses and mouths to form a gruesome puddle, that they were no longer for this world regardless of the cause.

The air stirred; no doubt this would be of interest, as ventilation was a feature that her prison had been decidedly lacking in previously. Were she to look skyward, she would see that the roof of the structure had been cleanly removed as though wiped away by a titanic hand...and staring down at her with eyes of luminescent crimson were three tremendous effigies of bone. Humanoid but undeniably bestial, hunched skeletons adorned with great curved horns not dissimilar to those of a goat or ram - or classical depictions of the Devil himself. Each appeared hollow inside their misshapen ribs save for a great vermilion orb. She knew, somehow, that they were the ones who had spoken into her mind.

They stood still and silent, raindrops pattering with an ironic gentleness against their cream frames. Were they waiting for her response?

Be careful what you wish for.
 

MKR

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#3
The woman clutched her head as the first message arrived, shattering the living nightmare and replacing it with the void came manifest. There was no space for thought here, not hers at least. Only the voice. Everything she felt, everything she saw, everything the thought about as it reverberated through her was just that, there was no room for the fear held within her heart. There was no room for the cold concrete floor to be felt, not even the concepts of nature like darkness and light could edge in their say against the voice.

As it spoke once more something responded on instinct, not a thought but her very thoughtscape. Her mind unfurling as she clutched her eyes shut.

A city on a beach, dark clouds looming overhead yet no rain fell. She stood upon the sand, or rather was watching herself stand there, so.. primordial was this intrusion upon her being that the mind's immediate response was to place all of her mind between it and her... And yet...
The words caused the world to rumble, shake, as the voice declared its intent to help her her eyes went to the horizon of the safest place for anyone...

And thunder struck the ocean in the distance, the deep rumble forewarning a yet to come threat. She winched as the sound came, it looked to be on the verge of vision yet sounded as if it was next to her and before she knew- she was petrified. Even in this internal world supposed to keep her safe from whatever had intruded her mind she would not be safe.

She still heard the rumbling above, for it was everywhere within her. To call it terribly agonizing was a start for how this felt, every segment of her being internal and external seemed to be crushed, pureed and remolded back into the same shape.
All as the voice made its request... No, demand. No... Stated its fee.

As it spoke the pressure built up, like the sea had rose to devour her. The rumble of thunder near yet far. The pressure she felt upon herself both internal and external became represented by the water pressure she felt.
No words, no thoughts could come through the tide as it embraced her until...

As the voice silenced itself the woman finally had room to think once more.
As a moment, perhaps two, perhaps none, passed her eyes remained shut tight in this mental world as she still felt the pressure upon her.

At that she was flung back into the real world, agonizing pain of the internal replaced by pain of the external. Once more feeling and thought came to her as she fumbled upwards...
Her hand clutched her forehead as her eyes remained closed yet, she stumbled around the room trying to find somewhere to stand yet in a daze from the blunt force trauma directly to her mind instead of body.

And then... She realized it was raining, and a breeze was caressing her.

Her eyes opened slowly but surely, feeling the soft breeze of wind through her now messy blonde hair throwing it even more into disarray, and the gentle drizzle did not assist the tidiness at all. Her eyes fell upon the door, her previous gateway to imprisonment now blasted wide open. Her eyes falling upon the man and woman at the table. Their features turned irrecognizable by... something or some method. Whoever they were would be lose to the annuls of time, if there were people to grieve for kidnappers to begin with.

She turned to the beings looming over her, the skeletal figures like demons from a tome come to life. Their crimson cores gleaming as droplets of rain fell down them. The sources of the voice, the ones who had come to save her from this hell or so they claimed. Before she might have felt fear for them, but now their presence radiated a gentle, welcoming, warmth to her. Like home.

It felt equally wrong and right their presence, a brick forming in her throat as it became clear to her what they were waiting for... An answer to their demand. Her mouth opened, the voice ever so slightly hoarse from repeated disuse and then extreme use rapidly after one another. One eye looking back to the two corpses before looking back to the monsters

"I... Will help you..." She calmly stated, slightly fearfully for she didn't want to end up like the other two who once occupied this place. But accept she did nonetheless. After a moment of hesitations she extended a hand upwards, a peace offering to the demonic monstrosities.
Internally she wondered... What would she be helping these... things with for their aid in freeing her.
 
Last edited:
Jul 15, 2020
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#4
For a moment that seemed to stretch into far too long, the machines - no, the creatures - that stood sentinel over the woman were still as statues. Strobing lights danced across their forms, the handiwork of lightning as the storm intensified in the distance, and the low crackling of thunder that followed eerily matched the dreamscape she had just experienced. It was almost as if they were...contemplating. Gauging the authenticity of her answer.

But at last there was movement, though at first it was no more than a twitch of one of the nearest form's tremendous claws. The digit seemed to stretch unsettlingly; it pained the eye to witness the way it seemed to simultaneously grow closer yet remain the same length. Rather, the space between she and it collapsed in a way that violated every physical law, bringing them rapidly together without moving an inch.

...too rapidly. But she would find herself unable to so much as look away, utterly paralyzed, as the razor tip of the claw pierced clean through her gut with a sickening, wet noise. The wound was mortal, far beyond hope of even the most advanced medicine. An exercise in gross excess if all they wished was to execute a single lowly human.

Yet...there was no pain even as her freeflowing lifeblood stained the ground.

...you...will see...

Once more the voice echoed in her head. It still held an irrefutable strength, but now it was more muted, more subdued, lacking that same psyche-shattering intensity as though it was coming from behind thick glass. It was...tolerable. It whisked her mind away, though the experience was altogether different now that the things had established contact.

She was worlds uncounted, places that teemed with life-forms mankind had not so much as dreamt of. Places that obliterated her very concept of how the universe functioned. Conflicts of breadth and duration on such a scale that to truly comprehend them in their entirety was beyond the capacity of man. Hundreds...thousands...perhaps millions of such images flashed before her vision in an indecipherable visual cacophony, yet the immense and total knowledge of each and every one threatened to crush her beneath their weight. It was the sort of forbidden knowledge of which only a tiny scrap could drive the greatest men to madness at the revelations therein. And even as they imparted it unto her, she could tell somehow that they too absorbed her own thoughts into their own.

Yet one aspect...was constant, both in this hellscape of information and the real world alike.

From every perspective, in the span of every instant, the angry glow of crimson orbs assailed her. An unending tide of these creatures - these Einst, the name leaping unbidden into the forefront of her thoughts - of every shape and size conceivable. They were Legion.

...we...watch...

...we...preserve...the order...of this world...of all worlds...


...events...in motion...upset the balance...

Comprehension of what they truly desired suddenly flooded her mind. There were factors at play that, improbable though it seemed, these Einst had never dealt with...the Spheres. They needed a body and mind compatible with such devices if they were to judge their place in the cosmos as they did all other things. A niche that she had volunteered to fill.

The visions faded, and they returned to the startling reality that she was still standing there impaled through the torso. Space seemed to unwind, the bizarre compression of distance reversing itself. Yet rather than a gaping chasm in her body, the claw left behind something...other. The gap was filled with a pulsating mass of green, almost fibrous material, and even as she watched ordinary skin seemed to quickly knit itself across the injury.

But there was no mistaking the fact that inside...she was no longer merely human.
 

MKR

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Aug 19, 2018
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#5
Her heartbeat was slowly rising as the anticipation was killing her, what were they going to do. Or more appropriately, have her do? In silence she contemplated the possibilities as she had nothing better to do. Frankly she wondered what these things even wanted from her, or could even want. Which well, made them all the more looming. Nevertheless she had accepted and was a woman of her word. So even with that brick in her throat, waiting, anticipating, for their cost. The prize of liberation tended to be a steep one, many a revolutionary found out during their lives.
Until suddenly, a crick in space as distance closed. The claw extending without growing, drawing nearer without moving. And she, she could do nothing but stand still and watch as the claw passed underneath her extended arm, underneath the peace offering, and tore out her lower body.

Red splattered across the walls and floor, as her pupils dilated. Her lip shook ever so slightly even through the paralyzation. What could well be her last breath escaping her lungs, or what remained of them, through her lips.
The internal world that had remained, the protection put in place by her psyche folded out once more, yet this time there was no ultimate darkness for her to stare at on the outside. Instead gazing into the crimson beads that the monster had for eyes.

The dark clouds above, looking over her. Internally she watched the waters on the beach of her internal world recede, the telltale sign of something horrid. Far, far away yet impossibly close a wave not of water but of red orbs came back in return. A tsunami. She was looking for anything to hold onto, a rock, a umbrella, a tree. Yet nothing was there, let alone within reach. The mental image of holding on tight to the ground as the wave crashed into her mental form erupted from her mind as it attempted to comprehend and visualize to her what was coming.

In the real world her vision slowly began to fade, no be replaced? By something... An endless tide of red, a wave all swallowing and all encompassing. The tsunami that now crashed onto her internal world had come outside, enveloped her and was staring back. She could not look away, her eyes would not tolerate it and yet she felt as if she had eye contact with each and every single one of these drops of the wave. A realization coming with... Each drop of the wave is another consciousness working in unity with its peers such was the feeling felt by the woman inside her head as the tsunami devoured her and the land within her mind, submerging it all in a crimson red.

And amidst the tide of red, the voice came once more.

She had heard of people seeing visions of their lives before they died. This... Was not her life. This was countless instants, lives, millions, billions, she could not keep track of them all. But all moments of lives lived in front of her eyes on frontiers unseen. Things not meant for the human mind. Yet still being etched into hers. Experiences, existences, all unified, all pushing towards the same goal. A mass without form but with a name, Einst. 'Once', those German lessons turning out to be useful for once.

As she was flung out of the pool of memories, pushed beyond the lake in which she had been bathed and submerged the woman was surprised, she had expected to be drowned by the voice to never hit the surface of her own thoughts ever again. Instead only her hands and feet were submerged. Yet she could not feel the surface of her own mental landscape below. She rose to her feet calmly, watching the twinkling surface of red water. Staring into the horizon as the clouds above were now also replaced with the reflection of red below her. It was like she was standing ankle deep in blood on the inside and as she watched the red tide pick apart every memory inside her, study it, analyze, categorize and dissect for any possible tidbit of information-

The voice came once more, no longer bringing in thunder with it as her internal world had been adapted to suit such a voice, to be able to withstand it.

New information flowed in alongside the red current, now connected with her. Like a river connecting a lake to a sea it flowed towards her, yet like it did to her a river of everything she knew went upstream back to the grand red see of information and ageless wisdom. The desires of the Einst flowing into her, it became clear why she hadn't been crushed by the tide into a droplet.

An unknown factor that needed examination, for which they needed one with curiosity. And she had ample supply of it.

Oh right, during all this she had nearly forgotten about the chest sized hole in her chest. Yet instinctively knew that it would fine. Those same instincts now closed her internal world, as she was not under any danger it had discerned. Simultaneously reality reasserted itself, it was as if she had never been struck as the claw retracted. Aside from well, the massive hole in the clothing she was wearing. The prisoner's garb as they had taken her clothes.

She would need a change of clothes regardless, but that was all the more reason to do so. That, and the mass of green in the former hole as 'normalcy' returned. A lack of surprise by this state of her chest was natural by now. Her previously raised hand feeling over the wound, now that that had passed she looked back up to the Einst. Having gained understanding what they desired from her, the trade for her life was her life she could say.

She had been curious about some things for a long time now, the things she saw before the battle that terrorized her being no exception. From the unusual weapon demonstrated to the monster that previously haunted her dreams, now excised by the voice that shook it out. There were more layers to this world than she could have ever imagined and the Einst were offering to not only abide but support her curiosity. A luxury not allowed to her previously.

Names and faces from her past began to be archived, not important but still kept in case they were necessary. In this new state of mind, having achieved this level of understanding she agreed, she would help return the balance to this world. The former prisoner was ready to leave this place both mentally and physically. To sate her curiosity she would need new tools however as well as the one Sphere 'ready'. Her thoughts began to form a construct, a familiar one. Such a machine suited her best to do her task optimally she would need one like it that, she made clear without the need for words.

Yet she wondered, when did those eyes of her begin resembling the reflection upon that lake in her mind? For now they shone with that same crimson red as her liberators.
 
Jul 15, 2020
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#6
Though their physical connection had been broken, there was little mistaking the hive-minded stream of consciousness that flowed unabated through the back of the woman's mind. She would grow used to it in time, adapt to it, embrace it - but for now it presented the very real peril of losing her individuality if she dove too deep. Best to let it remain shackled in the unconscious aside from the bits of information that her new masters pushed to the forefront of their own accord. Overwhelming as it was, she would realize that it was still only a faint glimmer of the true breadth of their collective intelligence.

The soil beneath her feet rumbled as the Einst finally deigned to move in truth, trio of silhouettes taking a colossal step back in perfect synchronization. There was something off-putting about their motions despite possessing a humanoid frame, as though evolution had programmed them just differently enough to seem uncanny without being able to put your finger on it. The pair that had not so far interacted with her broke pattern with the third, turning toward each other in lockstep.

Where before there had been hard bone - or something resembling as such, at least - sharp-edged and rough of texture, there was a sudden...softness. It was a difficult change of form to put to words; 'melting' was perhaps as good a descriptor as any in terms of something succinct, but did not quite do it justice to the way one material appeared to spontaneously become another even as its shape changed. Ropey viridian strands not unlike those that had a moment ago repaired her wound shot out en masse to form a dense web of fibers that spanned the gap between the two giants. Tethered, they were then drawn rapidly together, but rather than the tremendous crash one might expect their bodies seemed merely to mesh together with not an ounce of resistance. They seemed to dissolve wholly into a contiguous mass of green cables shot through with black...

...and the singular entity that emerged in short order would not be unfamiliar to her. Elegantly curved armor of shining white edged in azure formed the figure, a lithe stature designed for speed and agility before durability. A tri-barreled cannon ensconced the left fist, and in the right was clutched a rifle whose length exceeded the height of the machine wielding it. But that was where the similarities to its predecessor ended; rather than mechanical joints the many layered plates that made up its silhouette were instead held together as one by gently pulsating organic cables like strange alien musculature, and the same sort of shining crimson orbs that were the hallmark of the Einst peppered its body in various places. Even the weapons were divergent, rifle sporting beastly teeth and a long tail-like trailing finished with a clawed pincer.

Only one thing seemed out of place: the Einst core that rested in its gut seemed woefully undersized, hanging loosely in the cavity it occupied aside from the web of verdant cables that suspended it from the rest of the body. It appeared as though they had avoided interacting with the Sphere before they had acquired their newest tool, and so it was yet missing.

She would know what to do as it lowered a hand, realize instinctively that despite the lack of visible hatch the chest would give way and allow access to the thing's bizarre cockpit once she was near. A name would float up from the recesses of her mind, emblazoning itself on her thoughts. It was not consciously of her choice, but it felt...right.

Rein Weissritter.
 

MKR

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#7
The warning that ran clear through her senses would be heeded, for now she would remain ankle deep in the red tide that had rolled into her mind. The waters that rested within her would decide what they offered her, she was not to delve too deeply for it would mean her end something neither she, nor her new patrons had any interest in. In due time she would get to dive and explore beyond the surface of the water but for now, doing so was a dangerous venture.

Those however, were idle thoughts compared to the display unfolding before her, she stood upon the shaking ground, bouncing up and down with it as she witnessed the uncanny movements. A dance, she thought, was the most accurate description of the steps backwards. To some unheard beat they moved, prepared. The two with whom she had not had contact going further than the third one. The one who had given her the painless wound that had left no sight of its occurrence other than the blood splattered on the environs around her stood, perhaps just like her watching the dance unfold.

As they stood still once more her crimson eyes watched what followed the dance, it was disturbing in its own right to see two creatures mesh together into a writhing mass, but she also couldn't look away all the same, as she watched through the rubble of the destroyed building this, she acknowledged, would be a sight perhaps none but her would get to see.
It was a similar thing to morbid curiosity that compelled her to look, to not avert her gaze. Yet to call them the same was wrong, perhaps referring to it as something that had to be witnessed was more accurate.

The sight lasted but a moment after all, and what emerged was not an understatement to call 'vital' to her. The mental information she had shared had constructed the being before her, like a simulacrum of the machine she had piloted molded into the image of the Einst. Her gaze came over it, looking it up and down, noting the one thing that felt off to her for to her its presence was as natural as the soft drizzle that fell upon her form. The core in its chest, that was the first order of business once she was inside the pilot's seat.

As the machine lowered its hand to her this must have seemed like a twisted fairy tale to any onlookers, though not that there were any. The white knight had come to rescue the captured maiden, lowering his hand for her to accept. But, this white knight looked equally demonic. Yet, the maiden knew it was 'pure', the ideal white knight she held in her head had been distilled, purified, and constructed by her new masters. The mental image of the Weissritter she had given to them had been replied to in physical form and all was right with this.

But, this twisted fairy tale had only just begun.

The knight and the demonic beings it came from may have saved the maiden but the tale was far from finished, calmly she stepped onto the lowered hand, raised upwards by the machine she would step forward into what seemed like the machine's solid chest. Yet as her instincts had told her, they would let her through, opening and giving her a walkway into the cockpit of the knight.

Inside she took a second to admire the inside of the machine, everything was as she remembered it. The controls, the pilot's chair and now that she was inside the horrible fairy tale of demons could begin. The maiden was the knight, and the knight was the maiden. Weapons were to be seen as an extension of the self and this, this relationship proved that rule. The former prisoner sat down in the pilot's seat and the 'room' illuminated, where screens aught to be there was a decor of red, one might thing it to be noise, unreadable, undecipherable, but she knew what it was, to her it was like looking through a window. At the same time the eyes of the Rein Weissritter lit up, crimson hues gazing forwards.

Her hands elegantly moved over the controls in rehearsed motions, the Directory's standard procedure for the first launch of a machine. One she had done with this unit's predecessor in the not too distant past. The machine's hand moved, each individual finger one at a time and then clenching into a fist. The barrels of the tri-barreled cannon moving in and out, the barrel of the Oxtongue... No, a new name flowed into her mind. The barrel of the Howling Launcher cocked in and out.

And lastly- four bat-like wings spread over the surface of the earth, water cascading off of them down onto the soil. Calmly the machine moved upwards, hovering slightly off of the ground as tests concluded. Inside the pilot of the newly dubbed Rein Weissritter smiled to herself, this machine moved much smoother than her previous one. The speeds it could achieve she already acknowledged would be much greater than it. And with the Sphere? Why she was positively giddy to take this for a ride. But of course, any good start up sequence needed one last thing. The white knight looked to the Einst below, the one that had pierced its pilot's chest and repaired it without a flaw regarding it not with ire for the wound inflicted but like how one would look at a commander.

"Rein Weissritter boot up sequence complete." She reaffirmed, a force of habit that one. "Johanna van den Berg ready to launch and acquire the sphere of the Curious Goat."
 

GEAR

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Jun 15, 2018
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#8
Location: Subspace Transit
Time: Meaningless.


The trip to the Sphere's location wouldn't have been long, or for that matter complicated. Compared to the cautious scurrying that had been employed earlier by a certain Black Angel, the method employed by the Einst was much more... efficient. After all, who would better understand how truly malleable the keys and locks, the walls and arbitrary borders crafted in reality were than they, whose hand was felt in all things?

The realm known as "subspace" was skipped altogether, reality around her simply warping and bending, shifting the Weissritter effortlessly across planes. Where it arrived was...



Somewhere that Johanna had never traversed, yet unbeknownst to her, would have been terribly familiar to the aforementioned previous traveler.

https://soundcloud.com/felipe-contreras-carvajal%2Fdark-necrobat-megaman-x5
A great library, absolutely vast in scale, covered inch to inch in tomes slotted into metal shelves, wrapped all around her. Wrapped being the operative word - as the scenery, even as she watched, seemed to be in a state of constant, grinding flux. Shelves and rails and walls would roll like liquid, firm one next, becoming akin to a roll of film the next as it was whisked away to a new destination, the entire structure always dissolving, always being made anew.

Above her was a strange, painted "sky" that seemed a mix of constant horizons. Every time she "blinked", it would change in her view, as if someone was changing television channels - different skylines that were not only from Earth, but other worlds, other planets, other dimensions her mind had never even witnessed. It would have been immediately easy to see how it had formed such an effective fortress against the Einst - there was a kind of psychic aura to the place, a light pressure on the mind, as though eyes were staring at her from behind every shelf, every corner...

The realm of Gizos Gragios, the Dark God of Creation.
 

MKR

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#9
Movement without moving, travel while stationary. Such was how it felt to her form, the truth was different sure but such was how it felt to her senses. The roads traveled were only that for one who knew how to traverse them however, knowledge given to her but mere moments ago. So now, now she sat within a realm belonging not to humanity or angels but to a 'god'.

Knowledge flowed into her like the tide, leaving behind what she would need before ebbing away. Gizos Gragios, the Dark God of Creation. That was who this realm belonged to... used to belong to. Now it was but a empty husk, a grave with no gravestone. A house with no owner, a box left by the side of the road behind a fence. Beyond the reach of all who would not expend effort to reach it, and full of emptiness.

Perhaps once this realm was a death trap beyond comprehension, by all accounts it still was a death trap. That she wouldn't deny this husk of a realm. This repository of endless knowledge not meant for mortals and immortals alike rested now that its lure was gone, like a trap without bait. Her eyes panned upwards, and with it the Rein looked with her, watching the sky for a moment, watching it shift, watching it turn into untold realms and known locations.
She surmised it, like the shelves in front of her, were in constant flux. In a state where the coordinates of every facet of this world shifted at such a rate that they remained just in sight but never in reach.

The Dark God of Creation, was also that of Hope after all. And hope while commonly associated with great deeds of good. Was also a prime tool of evil. Dangling the light of hope in front of someone to twist them into insanity like this realm would do to those traversing it, was an excellent use of hope for evil.
The Psychic pressure she felt gaze at her helped in the matter. Either she was going to be this realm's last victim or its conqueror she reasoned. For she too had come here with hope, the hope to attain the sphere she was to use.

She closed her eyes, those would be of no use to her in this land of confusion. Only visual clutter occupied this space that wrapped around her. Yet wrapped was most appropriate, she was decent at logic puzzles prior to the events earlier, an ability enhanced by the new state of her mind.
And that allowed her to acknowledge, that extra logic, that logic was irrelevant to this place.

In a logical library one would search the shelves for a book they wanted. One filed away in the appropriate category. In this case a 'Sphere of the Curious Goat', likely to be filed under S, C or G. But this was not a logical place, it tore itself asunder and made itself anew every instant of existence. Were one to search it for a book, let alone a category they would stumble forever into the realm of shelves.

Therefore an illogical solution was to be had.

With the Howling Launcher tucked away the Rein Weissritter extended its arms forward, cupping them as if to receive something. And while not a psychic she could still reach out to this place. Not speaking, but showing her intent to delve past the facade of this world of libraries and knowledge and acquire the one item at its core she came here for. Reaching out in such a way.

If she had figured out the laws of this place, the rules that governed this place based upon the dark deity that had dwelled here. This would work. Here, hope and knowledge were the hook, line and Gizos Gragios was the sinker. She would take the first two, play by the rules of this place to attain what she was told to obtain for she hoped the library without master was listening to her demanding plea, and would find the 'book' she aimed for.
 

GEAR

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Jun 15, 2018
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#10
The Weissritter held out its hands in a silent, curious form of prayer. The thoughts of its pilot pulsed out into the aether, this strange domain that was a mere reflection of the hearts and souls of man, "echoing" through the halls, announcing her presence... For better or worse. The seconds ticked by, the only movement in the place the continuous, churning scenery that hurt the eyes.

She blinked.

It was only a natural reaction. A brief "disconnect" with the world, where her sense of sight was not affected by what it "saw". And once she opened them-

Something rested in the Weissritter's hands, though from whence it came was uncertain. Surely there was now something missing in the archives around her - for what she held was a thin, green-bound book, appropriately scaled up to the Weissritter's hands - yet, if she were to step outside her cockpit, she would have found it to be suddenly sized just for her to hold in her hands. A red velvet bookmark with coiled, writing vines emblazoned upon its fading surface in gold adorned its interior, and the pages within were only slightly yellowed. A small inscription in the front, similar to those used in a common library, indicated the book had only been borrowed out once before - but the name entry had been replaced with what appeared to be a print of some kind, highly stylized crawling ivy that, if she were to hold it open to that same page, would tumble across the pages ravenously, as it if were seeking to envelop the remaining text.

The title read, in neatly printed gold leaf: "L'après-midi d'un faune".

This curious addition would be short-lived, as, were she to glance up, the world would have changed once more. Now the strange "sky" was beneath her, and the library above, as if she were walking on the ceiling.

In the ever-changing "sky", a hole of sorts appeared. From the interior, a golden, clockwork-like hand emerged, grasping the edge as it pulled itself out into the opening. The Dean Bell stared at Johanna for a moment, its design in stark contrast to her own...

And suddenly turned, bolting back down the passageway it had formed as fast as its thrusters could carry it, leaving the young woman with an important question: To chase, or not to chase?
 

MKR

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#11
As the book appeared Johanna's eyes opened, the Weissritter affectionately caressing the cover with a monstrous finger. This, she acknowledged based on design and other factors, was 'her'. Evidence that she existed, a notebook that was never written in and a record keeping device never to be looked into. Of course this was just a visual representation created for her and well, it had been looked into.
But that was fine, she flipped it open and looked through the text. It was knowledge known in a format she hadn't seen in a long time, a poem. One about a faun, one about reality and the subjectivity of it. And one about dreams, she identified herself with the faun, a descendant of Pan, the very symbol of the Curious Goat one who inherited the will of that goat. And who was here to claim that legacy.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she suddenly jerked her head upwards... downwards, gaze narrowing on the arriving Dean Bell. The book was calmly closed and clutched as wings unfurled. As the Dean Bell bolted away a streak of motion followed after, the Rein Weissritter intruding upon the next layer of Gragios' sanctum.
She would follow the advise of her books, and let others lead her to happiness.

The infinite library left behind as space was pierced, entering the next hall of knowledge. She had played its game, and reckoned herself victorious but acknowledged that the game was not over. The tricks played by this realm were numerous and abundant. And so, she charged forward still. If the one she chased was real or not, remnant of cultists or fata morgana mattered not. To her it was the advancement she needed. She offered herself the false ideal of roses in this moment of perceived triumph. Gaze fixed on the foreign horizon below and what came after, fully ready to take on the one she chased were they to turn on her, yet her desire, her hope, was for a guide though this place.

And so, her mind sought to aim forward, for in the hand of the Rein Weissritter, the pure white knight, she held herself and while she would let others lead her to happiness she would grasp it herself. The Sphere of the Curious Goat, Pan's visage, awaited her beyond, this she knew for certain and for that reason she imagined herself, reaching forward, grasping truth in hand with herself in the other.
 

GEAR

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#12
The Weissritter flew - or rather, fell through the hole in this strange place, the walls little more than rushing tides of grey. Occasionally, a wave or some other shape emerged across its surface that seemed almost to be a face of some kind - a forlorn soul claimed by Gragios, perhaps, still entombed in this place where ever reason was slave to creation.

Best, perhaps, not to touch.

She emerged in yet another room in the "library", this one stacked high with what appeared to be film reels. On a massive projector screen to her left, both up close and incredibly far away, a series of images were being played, like a silent film - yet that would not be of immediate concern. It was as though the color was being slowly drained from the room, being drawn into the curious "projector" that lay at the heart of it all. The Dean Bell from before had halted, and was desperately running its hands across a "bookshelf" across from her, as though it was unfamiliar. It turned - and she would now see it was grasping its own "book" in its hand, a crumpled and worn looking thing, with the edges frayed from frequent reading.

It raised an arm-

"TONITARS!"

A distorted voice bellowed into the void over the distant, constant slamming of wood and metal, a series of magic circles sprouting from the puppet's wrist. In mere moments, rays of thunder fired from their surfaces, six in total, towards the Weissritter, bending and carving through the air in an attempt to thwart its pursuer from proceeding any further...
 
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MKR

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#13
Piercing through the halls of grey Johanna's eyes couldn't help but gaze, this sight traversing between the layers of Gragios' sanctum, was one very few would ever see. For those who did so without selling their being to the owner of these halls she may well be the only one. Nevertheless the target of her pursuit was on the other end of this corridor of grey and like a fallen angel she partook in the scenery, coming to a halt as she entered the new room.

The gaze of the demonic knight took in the scenery, the projector screen and stacks of film. This all, she reckoned, was once more a way for the senses to perceive what was in front of her and while the 'processing' behind it had adjusted and received aid. Her eyes were yet human, and still observed in human terms. Therefore the representation of the world for humanity held fast.
But, this time she was not alone. The one who had opened the doorway here, the Dean Bell, looked through the shelves as if searching, Or well, searchingly looked through the shelves. If one was here without a target of inquiry their purpose here was naught.

But, that would not stop her foe from assaulting the intruder upon this sanctum. Nor would it stop her, as the magic circles appeared in the space between them the Rein Weissritter's crimson red eyes lit up, it was time to move. And so it dashed to the side, it was her first fight with this machine- the perfect time to get a feeling for the way it handled.

With its free hand the Rein Weissritter pulled out its rifle, during this time the first volley came her way, she had lost the draw.. but this. She could dodge. The first beam impacted the space behind her as the Weissritter dashed to the left, swiftly moving around the outer edge of the room as her eyes fell on the book held by her foe. Its title escaping her in this momentary gaze, but its wear and tear told her enough.

As the second bolt hit right behind her the Weissritter came to a sudden stop causing the third to collide in front of her, in a sharp motion the demonic knight of purity gazed over the barrel of its monstrous gun and looked at its assailant. Inside its pilot smiled, she was thankful for this man who had allowed her deeper in even if he was intent on stopping her here.

Energy shot out from the lower barrel of the Howling Launcher as it was set to E Mode, red beams shooting over to the Dean Bell, rather intent on knocking out its almost mosque like shoulders, or more specifically the arms underneath. If she wanted a guide here he was, and with a few precision shots she could disable its weapons by removing its arms.
"Thank you for the key, follower of the Dead Dark God." She said to her attacker, of all the things she'd gained and lost her politeness was not one of the things lost its shot taken the Rein Weissritter seemed disinterested on being a still target, thus the movement began once more. Even as two more beams struck right behind her she paused not, neither in movement or speech.
"But I would rather appreciate something of an inside insight in the workings of this place," The last bolt pierced the Weissritter's shoulder, shattering a section of the pauldron on it and revealing beneath, the writing green mass of muscle, tensing up as they were electrocuted.

She hissed between her teeth as part of the electricity passed through the cockpit. Glaring at her foe with a new cold fury in her crimson eyes.
"So.. if you wish me removed.." She replied, through gritted teeth "Simply give me what I want."
 

GEAR

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#14
"You will never leave this place, heretic!"

The Wessritter's shots lanced out - they, at least, seemed to function normally in this hellish place. The Dean Bell jinked desperately about in the limited space that it had, shoulder slamming haphazardly into a stack of books, causing its arm to rise up protectively - instinctively - against the rain of fire. The plasma waves slashed over it, shredding its own shoulder armor, and searing the armor plates about its face, giving it a melted look as its "hat" was blown away.

"Our library is almost complete...! And with the shard of the fallen God, we will-!"

It lowered its hands - and caught sight of the manuscript in its grasp, now reduced to little more than flaming tatters. Instantly, it was almost as if Johanna was forgotten completely as it grasped at the shreds, desperately trying to piece them back together in futility. There was, to her enhanced senses... Something akin to a deep, distant rumble, as though a key were turning in a lock of unimaginable size.

"No! NO!"

White lines formed over the Dean Bell's body - ones mirroring the flaming cracks left by Johanna's assault, winding their way up its body as it seized up, as though grinding to a halt. With an ear-piercing scream, it shattered in a burst of flame into a thousand tiny pieces, and those too turned to nothing more than dust on the wind. To the Psychodriver, it would be a curious feeling: as if the soul before it had vanished down some distant, unseen hole.

An fateful warning, perhaps, not to allow the same fate to befall herself.

Of immediate interest, with the death of the gatekeeper, was the curious "projector" to her left, as well as the rows of books surrounding her. The titles on them matched every subject in memory, but in at least three of them - to her north, west, and directly beneath her, at the bottom of a winding corridor, were three with exactly enough room for one more title. The choice how to proceed, of course... Was hers.
 

MKR

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#15
Pinocchio was broken, its strings had been cut. Such was the fate of the man opposed to her, to her presence and to her being. But, with the confirmation that the shard of the broken god was central to their plans it was evident her arrival was not for naught. Theories flowed through her, possibilities of what they were planning. It was truly a shame he was vanishing before he could tell her, but as the low rumble shook through she simply stepped forward, watching her foe vanish into naught but flames and ash, inside her cockpit she clutched her ears for a moment as the screech came through. Frowning at where the man had been.

Of course he had to part with such a sound, nevertheless her frustration at the screech it was time to act, her potential guide had gotten devoured by this place and she did not intend to follow suit. And with space to breathe now her eyes fell upon her surroundings, the Rein Weissritter leaning down to the fourth free slot of books. Reading their titles a connection was made, a chronology of her. Multiple 'hers', given the second book in that collection. As her brain was in pain from the last book in this collection she averted her gaze for now.

And the fourth slot, was the perfect size for the book she carried. So naturally she pressed it in, and when the Rein's hand retracted it still held the book yet there now also was one in the previously vacant slot. Considering what happened to the gatekeeper of this place it seemed best to have a copy on hand during her stay, before anyone got any ideas about destroying it.

So, with that done she set about working on something else before this place shifted. If she had to guess the Sphere, or shard as the now erased man named it, was nearby so now it was a question of locating it and its distinctive green hue. Looking at the projector and its assorted items a thought came through, for this seemed to be a collection of events that happened that aught to not have happened. An intrinsic tie to the object of her search which in turn was the key to reach the goal of all that happens.

The demonic knight's fingers ran over the shelves as it walked forward, its gaze going over the room as it walked to the projector. Potential, she could create a moment that had not yet happened and carve it in forcefully. Though such a method was brutish despite the finesse required. Nevertheless it was an option, they would certainly have the methods to do so here if her estimate of their intent was correct- 'returning' a Dark God from death by removing the moment in which it died from the pages of history.

As she passed by one of the shelves she took a book from it, opening it on a random page and giving it a glance before moving onwards and placing it back where it belonged. This place adjusted based upon whom was in it, she felt. Thus for her its contents were centered around her, for that man they must have been based on him and his life, which meant that every moment in her life up until now must be hidden here somewhere. Able to combed through just as the Einst had done.

The Weissritter leaned down to the projector, staring through its lens. It would have been a rather clever place to hide the sphere, and such an ability to show the 'truth' of what had occurred in moments was a reasonable ability for it to have. But the projector was not a casing for it it seemed. Unless it was hidden deeper.
As she moved back up her eyes fell on the collection of items to be used in the projector. One titled [Cutting Floor] as well as one named "The Twelve" drew her attention, with the last one to do so being the "Extraplanar Contraction Theory”.

There was a pause, the Rein Weissritter's hand pulled out the first she named, unfamiliar with its method of storage or the subject matter she placed it within the projector. The other two, she contemplated for later. But for now, she would observe the video.
But if the projector was draining the color of this room as it seemed to do... Perhaps the treasure could be right under her nose,
 

GEAR

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#16
The device made a complicated series of clicks as Joanna inserted the media into its guts, accepting it greedily. Almost immediately, it began to play, lighting up the entire wall like the greatest cinema ever conceived of by man - a direct window into the subconsciousness. The color in the room, which had been draining away, seemed to dim suddenly - as though the lights were being lowered for her consideration.

TERMINISTIC SCREEN TEST
ADMINISTERING HAECCEITY OBSERVATION

...

THANK YOU


...

A film began to play in earnest, the "test sceen" fading away into black. There was a mechanical click. Aside from what appeared to be the sound of the projector, as though it were shuffling slides, or perhaps scanning further the media's contents, even the distant boomings seemed temporarily muted. In this place of course, learning was sacred - distractions would naturally be minimized.

...​

1598007336489.png


hacceitic thoughtseed 859a
"a dying star
"

A sight none had ever truly laid eyes on - a burning star on its last edges of life, filled the screen, crawling up the walls to give her a sense of scale as though she were hovering directly over it. As she looked towards the center, it would appear - against all reason - that there were two figures lying back, as though in a meadow, watching as its brightness supernova'd, briefly filling the library with blinding light.

Click.

The next slide was simpler. It was dark black, with a title having been meticulously typed large enough to be readable.

ALTER ERA 0018

It barely wasted any time, and moved on to the next slide with a hurried clatter.

1598006210979.png

"the maw of Ares"

What appeared to be a still shot of the Red Planet's surface. As she watched however, the darkened areas of the surface seemed to teem and tremble - as though they were made up of countless bodies.

1598006670886.png

Proposed Caption: "Don't let it be in vain.
Join the Gaia Liberation Front today."

"propaganda"

Click.

1598008754642.png

"sanctum 1181a"
Here, there was a curious pause in noise from the projector. An unwarranted, "mechanical" pause, as if it had noticed something. Still, after a moment, it continued.

1598009368783.png

hecaecctic failure

Grrrkklik.

1598010385999.png
deviation
Suddenly, the projector stopped... and she would have become aware of a noise that seemed to be coming from all around her. The bookshelves had ceased their endless rolling, and within their shelves-

The books rattled - trembled, each and every single one of them, resulting in a low, thunderous staccato. A certain aura had filled the place. A kind of dread that rattled through its entire place. The projector had placed itself on pause, hanging on the last, strange shot of an unfamiliar machine. The temperature had dropped considerably, and her breath would have come out in short bursts of white before her, leaving drops of condensation on the monitor.

Would she continue with the [cutting room] ? Or perhaps, a different choice of material?
 

MKR

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#17
Inside the cockpit of the Rein Weissritter Johanna leaned forward supporting her own chin with her fist as the room dimmed, focus brought to the screen as all else stopped to matter for that window of time. As the show of slides began, the death of a star watched by a pair as if it was as normal as the descent of the sun at night. Events that happened, or might have happened. Currently she was unsure at the nature of this slide, was it a prelude or an afterthought? She barely had time to contemplate as the second slide came along.

Not that this particular slide had much to say, its message loud and clear. Perhaps best called a title splash even if its words did not match the ones on the actual cartridge? Tape? Video container. Even if the words did not match the ones on the actual Video Container. Before long however the black faded into colors once more, the surface of mars- her head tilted as she watched the writhing mass upon the planet.
The Maw of Ares? What a peculiar place and name, one not existing here surely so where could it have been, when perhaps was also an adequate query.

The next slide came, a black Gespenst unit, that she knew by her very own she had used those during her drills namely before the Weissritter was granted to her even if this was a different Weissritter now the connection remained. When she was done, she contemplated, she aught to see what use she could get out of her old unit. It would also allow her to take revenge upon her double, yes that was a good match.
The message with the Gespenst however was something new, a Gaia Liberation Front, something unknown to her perhaps a Terra Sentinel from another place, another time. Its associated message of a singular word however she agreed to, knowing full well that but weeks prior she herself would have fallen for it rather easily. Same puppet, different strings.

Sanctum 1181a, her head once again straight on her neck she looked at the image. The projector had stopped here therefore it was a good one to commit to memory even if what it was was lost to her the importance of such a pause was not. Nor was the object at its heart whose nature she considered before the next slide came- Uncanny valley was the most rudimentary term the face staring back at her with its hollow sockets wasn't her, or 'her' but the likeness was still there. Like a printer running out of ink, or poorly copied homework.

She desired this slide to be over, but well. What came next was not much better- a glitched image causing the whole process to pause and sending a chill down her spine by its presence. And not just hers from the sounds of it, she looked around as the shelves themselves began to rumble. She wanted that image to be gone, to let it pass. As her breath cooled her heart increased in pace, nerves.

The Rein Weissritter's gaze went over its collection of disks and videos, looking for something anything to replace that image with. Before realizing that the feed was simply paused, almost forcibly it pushed the play button- and if that didn't work or didn't remove the unit that made her breath visible from the feed then she would force the disk out and the first one at hand, the reel titled 'the twelve' in.

Just a bit more, something to calm her nerves again before she resumed the hunt for the sphere through the open passage.
 

GEAR

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Jun 15, 2018
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#18
As Johanna tugged at the projector's side, it eventually would have opened with an loud SNAP. The media within was ejected with such force that it hurtled across the room, to clatter to the floor, and it seemed as though a collective exhale through the world around her, as the distant hammering resumed its irregular clattering and booming. Perhaps, in this case, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, for who knew what the secrets contained within would attract to this strange and curious place?

The heat pouring from the thing's internals did not deter it from accepting her next request, and once more the surroundings began to dim.




With a click, the screen came to life. This time, the video was more... clear. The setting seemed to be an office of some kind, a relatively modern looking one. The night sky was reflected in the windows, and before it was a dark monitor, a stylish black lamp, and a comfortable looking red leather chair. Books were stacked up on the desk's sides, but their titles were not immediately readable.

A hand retracted itself from the side of the camera, focusing it on the one facing it. A man in his late thirties, or perhaps early forties, lips pursed in thought, ran unkempt fingers through his dark hair, settling in to the chair, his long labcoat seemingly slightly too large for his thin shoulders, as though he had been larger when it had originally been fitted.

"My name... is Doctor Gordon Griswold, a founder and Lead Researcher of the Alternative Energy Institute." He began, only to pause, giving a small sigh.

"Well... I suppose it's called the Dimensional Energy Institute now." Said Dr. Griswold, settling into a thoughtful hunch, his arms folded on the desk.

"I would like this recording to serve as my confession... for all the wrong that I have done."

His eyes occasionally flicked away, into the shadows of the room. It did not seem so much that he was concerned about being discovered in his confessional, but that something heavier weighed on his mind.

"Twenty-one years ago, while venturing in the North Pole, my colleague Bertram Kestler and I were separated in an sudden avalanche. We were there investigating some previously unknown energy signatures. During that time, as we staggered through the icy caverns, lost and afraid... I found something.

Something... great, and terrible.

A monster, wrought of towering spires of crystal, that lurked beneath the ice. And... As though compelled, I touched it. The process we have as scientists... It's not very rational, if you really think about it, is it? Just... a touch. That was all.

From that day forward, I never knew a full night's sleep, not even after we were rescued from that frozen Hell. My mind was filled with... visions. Knowledge of... places. People. Concepts and ideas that surpassed even the latest and greatest discoveries being made on the surface of the Moon. Absurdities that could not possibly be true, yet when tested were as immutable and concrete as the coldest fact.

At the time... I truly believed that these sparks of inspiration could be put to good use. I believed this "Black Knowledge"... could serve humanity. Bertram and I founded the Institute, and together we were able to reconstruct the Martian EOT relics known as Proton Drives. Our most lasting achievement however, was establishing and legitimizing the field of "Dimensional Science"... I was convinced by Bertram, and indeed, the allure of financial success, to publish my visions in a way that was... consumer friendly."

A ginger click-clacking at his keyboard, and the monitor beside him came to life. It showed little more than an ethereal green glow, labeled "ARCTIC SAMPLE FLUCTUATIONS 18".

1598939790422.png

"Clean. Pure. Harmless. Endless. Dimensional Power soon became the talk of the energy world, and were it not for the limited quantities of the crystals we scavenged from the frigid north, we would swiftly have supplanted the existing plasma-based reactors that keep the lights on for most of humanity as we know it. It has been sold to the public as a miracle cure, power derived from other worlds - and Bertram intends to tightly control the supply, for our benefit.

More worrying... he plans to capitalize on the military's requests for weapons using our technology. This... Is something I cannot abide by. My conscience will not permit it."

Here, the Doctor paused, his features as tight as his voice. He reached for one of the sleeves of his labcoat, unbuttoning it and sliding up the dark shirt beneath to reveal bare flesh. Or... what ought to have been bare flesh. On his inner forearm, a patch of pure blackness peered back at the video. Within its depths seemed to glimmer burning red eyes, six in total, each constantly burning itself out and being reborn - yet just as quickly it seemed to disappear, as the man ran his hand across it surface, concealing the brand.

"Though my soul may be owed to Gizos Gragios..." He said, quietly. "With this act, I defy him."

He gave a slow, shuddering sigh... And continued briskly, his hands moving confidently as he leapfrogged from term to term, in the manner of a teacher or a lecturer.

"What we call "Dimensional Power" is referred to in its purest form as "Origin Law" He explained, "It is the power of "fate", the ability to make alterations to the underlying order of the galaxy, the Akashic Records, through will alone. It is the very tool wielded by the Gods of myth, one that heeds nothing but the desires of who commands it.

And yet... We have trivialized it. Commercialized it. I fear terribly, that we have unleashed upon this world something that it is ill prepared for. A power that risks plunging all of humanity into a war, after decades of peace."

Another click, and his display changed once more. A series of symbols in rapid succession, before they were arranged in a circular fashion, taking the form of a display that would be immediately familiar to any who had ever opened a newspaper.

1598940462827.png

"Central to Origin Law are the Twelve. They are artifacts known as "Spheres", each a fragment of the God that once watched over our world, correlating to the twelve celestial signs of the Zodiac. Those that these "Spheres" choose, their "Reactors", will be pitted against one another in a bid for supremacy... For the one who holds all twelve will carry absolute power, and rule over existence as a new God. That... is what my visions have shown me.

Were the wrong individual to attain these... the consequences for humanity, for all of existence, would be dire beyond description. I cannot allow that to pass."

Here, he stopped. Griswold turned towards the camera, and let his shoulders fall, elbows resting on the table before him. It was a full minute before he spoke, as though he had needed to gather the will to do so.

"...Eliza." He said, finally.

"You have grown so much, and come so far. Instructing you has been the greatest experience of my life, the one thing that I do not regret about my time at the Institute. Even if everything else has been lost, wasted, exploited..."

He raised his eyes, and from behind his glasses, wipe away a tear forming at the edge of his eyes, trying to give a confident smile.

"I... am so very proud of you."

Gathering himself, he pulled into the frame what appeared to be a battered, leather-bound volume, held tight with an ornate bronze metal clasp. Holding it in his hands, Griswold continued.

"Behind this tablet, you will find my journal. Contained within its pages is everything I have learned through the Black Knowledge... The secrets of the Twelve... and the underlying theories of Origin Law. All that I know, I leave it to you. Bertram is a charlatan, a pretender who thinks only of his own profit, not of the consequences of his actions... and I was foolish to ever trust him to be anything more than that.

Childhood friendships... are difficult things to rid oneself of. We always believe in the best of people, even when we ought not to.

But, you?

I have faith... that you will find a way."

The book was placed on the desk, and Griswold folded his hands over its surface in contemplation.

"As for me..." He said, quietly, looking down at its cover.

"After today's experiment, I must... depart. It will not be long, now... before Gragios takes me. The Dark God of Creation has his own designs in mind, and I am powerless to resist him as I am."

He nodded, slowly, as if his next words were not directed to the viewer, but wholly to himself.

"Yes. In order to undo what I have done... I must traverse the dark."

Blinking, as though suddenly remembering he was being recorded, the good Doctor addressed the camera once more... and waved farewell.

"Goodbye, Eliza. Be strong."
The audio filled with a low crackling, slowly rising into a roar, as the edges of the picture seemed to burn away, enveloping the entire frame as it curled up into little more than a scrap of black paper - before scattering into ash.



Heat.

Perhaps it was the influence of the "memory" working itself upon the world around it as its destruction was brought to life. Perhaps it was something else, some other sinister entity making its presence known. All that Johanna would have known, as the room returned to full brightness, was the distinct scent of burning paper.

Fire now raged through the insides of the library - yet it did not burn her, its phantasmal light surging across the bookshelves, licking their surfaces and flowing like liquid Hell in every direction. All of the world around her seemed to be burning down, being tossed into some great and terrible furnace, where memories that were not supposed to resurface were condemned to the cinders of existence. It raged and raged, crumpling up the world before her, turning it all into dust in a matter of minutes, all of the great library seemingly being swept out of her view.

And yet, when all of it had burned away - she was falling again. Falling through infinite, depthless blackness. Eventually, the Weissritter's thrusters would have activated, flaring as it fell through featureless black - and down, into the "ceiling" of her destination.

In contrast to the heat from before, a cool breeze swept over the Weissritter's form, and pale waters lapped at its feet as it descended. The "room" for lack of better word, was like a massive octagon - the sides of which were clear, transparent crystal. the floor being covered in opaque blue water, tides turning listlessly under an influence that was not immediately apparent.

At the center of the room... was her prize.

A series of brown, statue-like arms reached up from the water, all curled around something green and round that pulsed with an eerie light, each sending strange reflections across the waters around her. Each pulse seemed to be matched with the tenth beat of her heart, as though it were emitting its own silent siren call to the one it had chosen, and guided them to this seat of dreams.

The Sphere of the Curious Goat.
 
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MKR

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#19
A sigh of relief washed over her as the... Thing went out properly. Her attention instead turning to the screen, as the next movie began to play.
She tilted her head like a curious child at the man's name, she felt as if had she taken but one different course during her time at school that name would be one she knew. But that was besides the point now, as the man talked about the 'black knowledge' the woman put her hand to the side of her head, resting her cheek on it.

A brute force version of what had been done to her perhaps? By all means her acquisition of knowledge from and about the Einst was not the most pleasant of times but this sounded more and more like something that upset the balance rather than sought to preserve it. Crystalline things under the north pole however? That was something unusual.
Nevertheless that thought was put aside, something for her to think on at a later point in time. For now her attention came to the vial of Dimensional Energy.

She never cared much for the stuff, wasn't really helped by the fact she'd never once gotten to use it or a machine with it and admittedly when it came to corporate ambitions gone wrong she didn't particularly care either. Though the terms he began to throw around caught her attention again, Origin Law and the Akashic Records perhaps her new masters could say more on these subjects but for now they remained quiet as the Dimensional Energy was replaced by the image that followed- Capricornus. This, this was what she was here for.

Spheres, the parts capable of surpassing the whole. The very thing that drew her here, and this man even used the symbol belonging to the Goat for his example how kind of him. Though that 'becoming a new god' ordeal frankly carried little weight for her. At that points the parts became a whole once more and the whole was a 'known' whereas the parts were an 'unknown' if anything that meant her goal would be closer to keeping them separate.
The minute of pause gave her ample time to think on this, but when he did speak out to some 'Eliza' the one viewing this recording did listen in her stead, pride, regrets and a small book.

The small book was the object of interest here, something worth acquiring if she came across it. The perspective and knowledge of one who had such a thing done to them and crammed into their heads was noteworthy. Though this 'dark' he would venture into also brought her interest bearing down. Yet, before he could explain the recording was concluded turning into nothing but a crisp and smoke.

Johanna clicked her tongue at that, there were some interesting things in here at least but she aught to get going.

Fire.

She glanced to either side, feeling the heat of the flames but not the ire of them. Once more her head tilted, was this place growing unstable or was this somehow instigated? She knew not and as she calmly watched the library burn down she was thinking to herself how much was lost to this fire, and yet how much would be gained? She also kept her own book away from the flames, not intending to get caught in the crossfire yet it seemed she wasn't sticking around to find out if any thing would rise from the ashes as it was almost as if she was ejected from the room by force.

For the most part she let herself fall, not fighting against the current as she went into the dark. The thrusters activating on their own didn't even receive her notice as she watched the new surroundings. Funny, she thought, that this destination would resemble the place in which she took shelter from the voice but minutes ago. But now, as the waves came against the form of the Weissritter her gaze was transfixed on one item. A sphere of green.

If that was the siren she was a hapless sailor, its allure capturing her as the woman directed her machine forward, stepping through the waves and towards the sphere. The hand of the demonic knight reaching out to touch the object.
The rhythm of light did not go unnoticed by Johanna, the sphere was beckoning her, whether it was a lure or a desire she wasn't sure. But now, the sphere and her were in sync.

And she would reach towards it aiming to hold it and give it its rightful place in the chest of the Rein Weissritter in the stead of the small almost malformed crimson core still dangling there.
 

GEAR

Administrator
Staff member
Jun 15, 2018
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#20
The Sphere, luminous in nature, responded to her approach with a pulse of warmth. The myriad arms clasping it parted before her, sinking back into the depths from whence they came, until they disappeared from view. This place, it seemed... Was satisfied with her responses, and her inquisitiveness. At her touch, the Sphere floated forward gratefully, passing into the crimson core at the heart of the machine. Instantly, warmth and strength flowed through the Weissritter's limbs, sparks and gleams of light pulsing across the tendrils that made up its body.

For Johanna... It was as if she had been made whole.

As if all of this was meant to happen.

All of the universe's secrets were out there now, waiting to be discovered, for in her hand she now held the "key". As if on cue, the furthest section of the room's walls seemed to warp, Dimensional Power responding to the newfound owner of the Sphere, leaving only... a rectangle of white, suspended in the air. If it were some form of exit, permitting her to return to the real world, or some final trap of Gragios and his acolytes was uncertain... But it remained, featureless and white, framed against the blackness of infinity.

And yet, in that same moment of zen-like tranquility and understanding... A chill may have run down the new Reactor's spine, the arrival of the Sphere being accompanied by the sudden knowledge of what it had been holding back.

The water below was beginning to... muddy, somehow. Dirty and curdle, as though a hundred thousand gallons of some vile sludge had been dropped carelessly into its pristine surface. There was a great tinkling and crackling behind her, as spider-like lines began crawling up the glass walls that ringed the place. An additional noise was just barely audible over the breaking - that of a persistent hammering of flesh.

A hand, rotted almost to the point of decay, slammed into the surface of the walls. It was accompanied soon by another... and another... and yet another - until the barrier finally gave way.

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A tide.

That was the only way to describe it.​

A wave of absolute filth, viscous and yet fluid, that surged through the barrier with the force of an exploding dam. It swallowed everything in its path beneath its turgid, opaque surface. Chunks of flesh and bone were just barely visible across it's surface, emerging just as quickly as they faded as it churned and roared -

And came straight for Johanna, a wall of pitiless rot that threatened to swallow her whole.