Amongst the Rubble

The tiny purple flame seethed with anger as it hovered in the dark void riddled with rubble and destruction. Its entire existence it had been caged, reviled, and scorned, but now it could add attacked to the growing list. The flame danced to the side to evade passing debris, a large section of wall with a crumbled doorframe imbedded therein.  These vulgar and deplorable creatures’ potential for destruction was truly awe-inspiring. Even beneath the festering hatred the flame could appreciate the chaos that came so naturally to them.
 
These animals were so predisposed to devastation and ruin it was enough to wonder if that was their natural condition. Where it had expected its greatest allies, it had found the source of the destruction abound. The flame had only desired to help the Thief and the Girl and had expected help from the one they called healer. Everything was unraveling for quickly.
 
This the flame could not accept. This could not be their natural state. This must have been learned. The only difference between the flame and them was their environment. It had seen the beauty of the void. The singularity of conformity. Their world was full of such diversity and from it they had learned cruelty beyond measure. In a world full of entropy, the only recourse was to lash out in anger.
 
No, not anger, but fear. They were afraid of change. Change brought more entropy into their world and that was why they resisted it so. They wanted to be saved from their environment and torture of existence. They just were so conditioned by their surroundings they could not recognize it. The flame couldn’t blame them for their unfortunate upbringing. The flame mustn’t fight them for the treachery their environment had bestowed them. They were children fumbling in blinding light. Only the flame had seen the darkness. It fell to it to show them a better way.
 
Again, the flame regarded the shattered marble and fragmented wood and plaster. It had no love lost for this place. Even found some solace in the obliteration of the endless series of hallways and rooms, one of which had served as its prison.
 
No, it was what the disintegration meant that had given her pause; saving them was going to be more difficult than the flame had originally surmised. It was a colossal task before her to realize the darkness here, but now if it were to succeed, it would have to save them from themselves as well. Allies would prove far and few between in its crusade and failure was not an option. The flame would rebuild this place to learn of those in need of salvation. If the doctors and heroes couldn’t be counted on, then maybe those whom it first saved, the Thief and Girl, would hold insights for the quest.

Rule Number One


Weeds plopped down and fell against the wall between two doors. She pulled her knees up and rested her forearms thereon. She let out a sigh and tossed her head back rhythmically against the wall. She was exhausted and let her eyes slide closed. How long had it been sense she had rescued the other shards from that place? It felt equal measures of yesterday and eons ago.

She looked up and found herself in the center between two doors of the seemingly never-ending hallway of memories and slide over to her left.  She smirked at the doors. She could remember things just fine without these stupid rooms. She closed her eyes and let the memory wash over her as was her daily ritual.

Rigwyn stood over her pulling from his sheath, a large, black, ornate dagger and holds it up above his head. Ignoring Allena, he begins to howl as he hands glow with a sickening, argent haze. The blade too begins to glow revealing a strange series of cryptic rune-like shapes along the blade. “I Command you Baazel, Enter this woman right now! Seize her! Consume her! Twist her heart, and replace her mind with your own! You will appear before me, you will serve me! Do it now!"

The blade plunged downward and tore through her. It surged with power. She could feel herself screaming but could not hear anything. Something was terribly wrong. The world buzzed and faded into a myriad of blurred colors. The energy from the ornate knife pulse and poured more and more power into her and was cutting into her as it wormed and veined its way.

A second blast of energy rippled through her and the fissures began to compound on themselves. It was shearing her apart at her core faster and faster. She couldn’t take in any more. It was too much to contain and she erupted into a discharge of or sparks and whips of lights surround my a vast, cold, darkness.

No, it wasn’t a darkness. A darkness would have been something. This was nothing, not even a sense of time. It was a devoid of anything but the remnants of what she once was. Slowly they circled one another, the smaller flecks gathering around the larger fragments. Slowly, agonizingly there were three masses: The largest was quivering sky-blue sphere, an oblong violet mumming mass, and last, a small green form that convulsed as it struggled to maintain its structure.

“We have to get out of here,” came the spontaneous thought to the green mass. Panic was beginning to set in and it could tell it had already taken the blue. The purple… the purple was not. It was sitting there humming. That didn’t matter now. It had to stay calm.

If here was a way in, there must be a way out. It had to think. The energy was the key: the ritual tore her apart and the conduit was that knife. It was worth a shot.

The green mass rushed to the other two. It was not sure what it was doing but it knew it could not stay here, not in this void. Energy. It needed energy. She pulled from deeply within herself and borrowed watch she could from the others. It was draining and felt itself flicker, threatening to wink out. It couldn’t give up. It had to be now, or all was lost. It pushed on and a spark cracked through the plane. And then another. Soon a storm sprang forth and peeled open into a portal. Without hesitation it jumped through with the other two in tow.

Weeds sighed as her let her head thump behind her against the wall. It was her first memory. Sure, she shared some memories that occurred before this, but this was the first that was truly hers and only hers. It always gave her pause. Had she done the right thing with how everything had turned out? Would it have been better just to stay there?

Or even just left them there. After all, the first rule was to always know when to run and don’t be a hero. Yet here she was playing guard for a prisoner that enjoyed their cell to protect a girl who wanted to destroy herself.

“What can I say, I’ve always like an underdog story,” she said into the echoing and vacant hallway.

Weeds smirked to herself and shook her head. She let her forearms fall from her knees and let her hands slide down her thighs. How long had it been like this? Taking turns running the show with that girl? Running around trying to clean up after her and keep her nose clean.

In truth it was getting easier – she was learning her habits and her shift were getting longer and more frequent, but it was a constant struggle. When it was her turn, the girl would fight her every waking moment until she won out and then she would find herself here resting until her next time at the helm. In the same breath, the monotony was wearing on her. Wake up, fight, lose, and retreat. Rinse and repeat. What if she could just run away and let someone else be the hero?

Before she could convince herself what she was doing was worthwhile like always, the world flickered. Weeds blinked for a moment to make sure what she saw was correct. She froze, not daring to breathe. Then it did it again, like all the light and life of this place was being sucked from it.

She sprung to her feet and ran at a dead sprint. “What did you do now you light forsaken idiot. I stop watching you for two minutes…” she mumbled to herself. Weeds zoomed through the halls, running on a dime, following the route to the foyer by memory and feel. The world flicking continued, now accompanied by the very ground trembling beneath her.

She made the last turn and the familiar double doors waited her. She dared not slow down and took the doors with her shoulder, smashing through. Weeds grasped the top railing and catapulted herself over ignoring the twin stairwells curving downward to either side and tumbled into a roll as she struck the marble floor. Predictably, there was Allena in her ridiculous flowing blue gown.

“What in the mask of Lannx did you do!” Weeds demanded, her words punctuated by the largest tremor yet.

“I messed up. I went too far. I am going to die. I am going to die!” She cried out as hysteria and tears set in quickly.

Weeds stomped over to the cowering Nolthrir and struck her with a forceful open palmed slap. It was stronger than it needed to be, but it felt good. “Shut up right now and get a hold of yourself. You are going to listen to me and do -exactly- what I say. Got it?” The girl stared blankly bad at her and this time struck her with a backhand of equal force. “Got it?”

Allena nodded. “Good. Now, this world is falling apart. We have two things we need to protect: the brain and the heart. You are going keep that heart pumping and –” Weeds’s words were cut off by a sudden fissure ripped through the marble floor and shook the earth with the pair as they struggled to maintain their balance. “–And I am going to keep this monstrosity of a mind together.”

Allena continued to stand there trembling “Hey, pull yourself together and get to work!” the light flickered and the world quaked. Weeds looked up to the sound of crumbling overhead. A section of the ceiling had given way and was plummeting downward. The Nolthrir was staring blankly up at it. Idiot. Weeds cursed under her breath and took off at a sprint again and smashed into Allena wrapping her arms around her and bringing her to the ground.

She looked back with the pile of debris less than a foot away from her feet. She turned back and pushed herself to her feet and pulled Allena up by the high collar of her gaudy monstrosity of a dress. “What are you waiting for. GO!”

She tossed Allena away from her hoping the momentum would spring some life into her. The Nolthrir stumbled backward and shuck her head coming too. She offered Weeds a small nod and vanished. Weeds turned back to face the heart of the foyer; the ceiling collapsing, dust pluming, and the left stairwell giving way.

“Sorry, Snitch,” she thought. “Looks like I got to break rule number one.” But then again, she had never been very good at following rules.

The Void of the Mind

Allena stormed from the Hospital in Amdeneir and threw the door closed behind her. Working with Sacho had always been a pain. It was like trying to convince Evirea of something she did not believe and trying to control Rigwyn all at the same time. How could he not see the dangers of what was contained within her? It had killed Celroc, one of their mutual friends. Did he just not care that it was getting stronger? Did he not care what it could do with more control?

The Nolthrir trembled at the thought. It was already torture waking up and contemplating what it may have done while she was asleep. It was getting to be too much to bare and if the blackouts continued to get longer and more frequent, well, she would just have to take matters into her own hands. There was a storm brewing and she would not be a victim. Not again.

Never again.

I think what you are all forgetting is that the internet is not a big truck.It's not something you can just dump stuff into; it is more like a series of tubes. And those tubes are just filling up with all these hyperlinks. The Europe is just looking out for all our personal internets to make sure the tubes don't get clugged and we can all send our own internets.

building relationships between players can be a rich and rewarding experience, however, the proverbial ice breakers should stem from interactions between characters. Trust and friendship is built from these shared interactions and a mutual admiration from how the characters are portrayed.

A notable exception to this my me the mentor/mentee relationship where some OOC communication may coincide with the early interactions, but to suggest that OOC communication should precede or is even a necessity is incorrect. This methodology is more often than not creepy, unwanted, and detrimental to the process.

The Forum account and the game account are two different things. Maybe you have to activate it from your email?
Regardless, good luck and I hope to see you soon!

I think the use of the public forum was to generate a public discussion on the matter in, oh say, a forum style where all people interested, including you, could contribute to the discussion. It also seems to have worked as many people have shown interest.

Personally I am just tired of having to make a group to simulate what the RCD should be. A group is limiting and excludes from the RP accidentally getting bigger and blossoming.