The Great ChiliBoard

Wabacha wrote:

"Then take me to the seal." While his eyes are wet, the Crossed King has spoken calmly long enough for Kirk's heart to find its balance. Indecision, fear, anger- They are drowned out by his driving purpose fueled by rage for Salem and love for his family. While his countenance is changed by his Terrakan evolution, the old Kirk steps away and stares back at the first king. He makes no movement to accept the handkerchief as he looks now back to the palace, where based on the Forgotten's attempts to destroy it he assumes he will find the Seal. And if the Forgotten was trying to blow it up, he would have to be careful in the way he does it. But in this form, he has no doubt he would find a way in time. "I'll be enough to dismantle it. There's no sense in wasting time."

OOC: And this is the moment where John has to decide if the Crossed King actually used the seal or not, and if this is Kirk's dream or not.

The truth of the matter was that Kirk was a timebomb, eventually not even he can stop from becoming the gate his master will need to cross over into the material world once more from his domain of nothingness... The situation would be far safer if Kirk were sealed away, sealed and ordered to be guarded until such a time he and his patron could be forced apart and Malak could be destroyed once more, his fragments scattered once more... While total destruction is preferable, destroying him is impossible as long as the concept of destruction exists, as long as creation need its counterbalance. So scattering his fragments like this will always be the only solution. Unless some other measure is taken. Despite all that... Imprisoning him now would do Zocom no good.

The King turns the handkerchief back into Raw mana as he accepts his refusal of it, with Kirk declaring that he will be enough he doesn't waste any time as he starts to walk back towards the Palace. Along the way he looks around at the devastation left behind in the wake of the battle between Kirk and the Forgotten beast pretending to be Kirk's wife. "I don't doubt it. I would remove it myself, but I need all my remaining strength to hold the barrier. The seal over the spirit well is under the palace. The passage to get there is under my throne. When it was put in place I had already died, barely the strength to stop Salem's Archangel from putting such seals in place or defend against some cheap shots on my corpse. Beorin is a sore loser." Though Beorin isn't the only one that would seem to hold onto a grudge it would seem.

The King's gaze shifted back towards the distant wall, barely visible above the immense dunes that Kirk climbed over to get here. "Fairies have already started to come over the wall... It would seem their Queen wishes to try and start restoring the heartland quickly." The King sounded curious about it, but right now they had a more urgent issue to deal with. His eyes turned back to the palace as they reached the stone steps leading up to the imposing structure, now able to pass through the large stone doors that were closed for thousands of years.

Passing inside the massive stone interior Kirk would come to see the ruined palace halls, carpets and decorative clothes long rotted away with ashen rags and torn flags along the walls. As they crossed through the ruined halls, being able to see that some of the ways into the rest of the palace had either collapsed or boarded over for some reason, near the throne room there were paintings still on the walls. Though some were faded almost to the point of being unrecognisable with only one being pristine, the feeling of the King's mana keeping it safe against the elements. The portrait was of a woman with long white hair and yellow eyes, she had a fair complexation and a rather agile body type. It seems the King certainly had a bias for her seeing as the two portraits of his sons were all but torn and faded by the elements. To put it together this woman was likely the Queen... But there isn't mention of any Queen from anyone Kirk had talked to about this. Likely just a detail lost to time, but clearly the King still had a lingering attachment to the living world... Likely why he expressed a desire to be made flesh and regain his youth once more. Passing the portrait, the King took a moment to look at to the portrait before continuing with Kirk.

(https://imgur.com/UoAByNO)

Passing into the once proud and decorated Throne room of the Crossed King, Kirk would see much of the same that he had witnessed until this point. A ruin of a once great hall, support pillars toppled and decorations either looted and destroyed or just eroded with little left of the statues and riches that once filled this hall. And in the centre back of the room, atop a small pyramid of stairs was a large crystal throne that once shone like the sun... Now the light was dim, only enough to light up the room so they could see in front of them. Upon it, was the King's corpse. Naught but rotted flesh and bleached bone draped in warped and rotting robes, though the body practically had Old Magic spilling from it, all surging up through the building to form the dome of magic over all of Zocom. Of course the King took a moment to look to his own body, with all the mana at his disposal his revival would be a simple matter. But his people came first... They had to survive.

"There will be a loose tile behind the throne, it had a seal on it but your destroyed it when you turned into a Terraka and used Gate... Once you open it and head down the stairs you'll enter a cavern. It isn't large, just a straight tunnel down to a larger opening.. It'll look like you're at the bottom of a huge pit. The palace is built over it. At the centre of that pit is the well. An ornate arch structure made of dark stone and purple runes... Beorin placed a cursed dome around it. Shattering the dome and feeding the Well some mana should do the trick." From the way he was talking it would appear that the King could go no further. Or moreso that he was reluctant to do so in his state.

Gavilain wrote:

Dream stuff

When the sun sets again behind the horizon. Myriad in the meantime would find something noteworthy. The shuffle of dominance in Lincoln's mortal coil and the previous intrusion of outside force resulted in a crack in the Corpse's exterior. Revealing a passage into the core of this anomalous part of Lincoln's being. Neither of the two vestiges were even aware of it.

If he were to possibly pear into the Corpse. Myriad would find a subconscious realm composed of a dreary woodland choked with dense fog. At the moment there's enough light managing to penetrate the fog to illuminate quite a bit of the local proximity.

There is hardly any sound one would expect from an area like this. The air was still. No life rustles in the undergrowth. Only gnarled, cruel black trees. The ground was dead, covered by a thin blanket of snow. In contrast to the gloomy nature. There was a sense of peace in the air.

Here, the true Lincoln can be felt the most clearly here. Who was somewhere amidst the trees with another spiritual presence. Faint child laughter could be heard in the distance. If one were to go investigate the sound. They would be greeted by a rather surreal sight. A child playing fetch with a dog.

A white-haired child in a clean, white gown. Bright eyes a vivid blue. And that is where the purity ends. His limbs and face were dirty. Caked with grime and dirt. Floating above his head was a halo made out of purple entrails. Old bruises can be seen over his body. The most noticeable being a faded bruise around his neck.

His “dog” came bounding back with a stick which looked like a toothpick in comparison to the “dog”. The “dog” was a large, eight-legged female wolf sporting no visible eyes. Her coat was a dirt blond. Tied around her neck was a decently made collar made out of bark strips. Her tag was made out of stone with the name “Lana” carved into it.

The child was Lincoln, who clapped seeing Lana brought the stick back. “Good girl, good girl! Who’s a good girl? Yes, you are!” He retrieved the stick while giving wolf Lana a scratch beneath her chin before chucking the stick with remarkable force into the distance. “Go get it Lans!” It was evident that even now, Lincoln never truly grew up. It’s unclear as of now how much he’s aware of the outside world. But whatever had happened, he had been here for a very long time.

Wabacha wrote:

Myriad stuff

In the face of trauma, the human mind has been documented to revert to an earlier state in an effort to defend itself. Such defence mechanisms rarely are complete or wholly successful, which may explain the child's current state. But that could only be used if the memories he has sifted through were accurate. Or, more accurately, which set of memories were accurate. It would depend on if Lincoln was a child or not during the night his sisters were killed. Or it may not.

The ghostly presence looks about the deathly forest as the child played with the symbolic aberration. It was a snowy night when they were slain, and his final sister died with him out in the forest. Are his memories mixing the monster and that sister together, unable to discern the meaning outside of knowing they were important? Or is the creature's appearance signs of how she had died? Eyes gouged or clawed out, limbs torn and ripped from the body?

While it is a curiosity, the mystery is far from the most important issue. The sun fades and the nightmare grows in strength with the waning light. Soon it will come for Lincoln, and quickly. And if he was able to make his way into these deep recesses, what comes next would face no resistance.

He will have to test the boy.

Myriad stands silently as armored operators begin to appear from the shadows of the trees, rifles at the ready. They're muffled radio communication is unintelligible, their appearance familiar and their movements uncanny. They are memories, drawn from Lincoln's own subconscious, thrust in a dream where they don't belong. Their guns remain against their shoulders and they keep their aim on Lincoln, but even as they draw closer to him they make no effort to attack. It is not just Lincoln that Myriad is testing, but the mangled memory of Lana as well. He must know now if she is an autonomous dream, and if she would defend Lincoln. Knowing that is a must for this first battle against the approaching nightmare.

Gavilain wrote:

Really long boi

A hollow chuckle crept up his throat. The maddening pit at the bottom of his abnormal soul grins. By the second it grew into a barking laugh. It was a sound of madness. Of a stained soul long hollowed by the touch of the universe. Yet at the same time it was a sound of defiance. A warrior who will always stand beyond the brink. For he spent more than a lifetime in the dark against the abnormal and the absurd.

“Oh, I’m not dead?” He spats. At first he was about to go on a tirade against that. Laugh at him in a tongue not his own but is at the same time. But his mood in indulging in melodrama was waning. “From your perspective I suppose I am ‘alive’. That is what that sweet part of your brain tells you right? That precious, fragile thing called rationality.”

He gave a curt grunt when he began to talk about him being in need and that they should take a van. “Didn’t you catch what I said? Did you believe I was sprouting nothing but mad gibberish?” Lincoln turned to look at Wilhelm. Who would feel something off about how he looked at him. Lincoln’s eyes felt like they didn’t belong to him. “The man before you have died a spiritual death. I’m not who you think I am. You’re looking at nothing more than a corpse that is so very delicate.” He looks back to the town they walked out of. “It can only go through so much beating before it starts to break. That is why I was here. Dreaming in a dream to let the corpse heal.”

Lincoln glanced to make eye contact with Wilhelm. For a split second his eyes flash to something otherworldly before vanishing. Black sclera with yellow irises in the shape of a five pointed star. ”I took pity on the child.” It was the voice that Wilhelm could hear mixed with Lincoln’s earlier ramblings in an unknown language. The voice is clear but unnatural to hear. Human vocal cords weren’t meant to flex in such odd ways. He turned away. Resuming his trek away from this place. While his eyes were still normal. Wilhelm could still hear the alien voice.

It was unclear whether there were actual multiple entities within Lincoln or simply that his mind had fractured into different personalities. Or perhaps a mix of the two. Wilhelm would be able to glean that something was wrong with Lincoln’s soul. It felt more extra-terrestrial than human.

That odd nature receded when Lincoln spoke normally again. “For now we just get away from here. Everything is left behind. It was a dream for the dead and it shall remain a dream. Don’t worry, I’ll be able to survive out on the open road. Always have” If Wilhelm took the time to look at the sword that was once Lucy. He would sense something that felt awfully similar to a soul. But something was horribly wrong

Things were just as strange beneath his flesh, muscles, and bones. For Myriad he would be able to glean a better image of the state of his soul. It was composed of three elements. The one that was currently in control of his body could be described as a personality core. A clump of emotions given some semblance of self-awareness. He could be best described as the “Soldier”. It was fitting. His very being is centered around the warrior mentality. The only life the Soldier can imagine is one on the battlefield.

Lurking beneath the Soldier was a presence that didn’t belong to Lincoln. And it was the one to have created this artificial intelligence in a mix of his and what was left of Lincoln’s emotions. Myriad would sense that this alien being was nothing more than a sliver of an echo of some aeonic being that once lived. A sovereign of most likely a long gone empire in the unfathomable depths of the universe. He could be seen as the “Emanation” who forces Lincoln to move whether he likes it or not.

It’s this Emanation who started all of this. In the time Myriad spent around Lincoln he would likely stitch together a background from his memories. In Lincoln’s first life, millions of years before he was ever born. The Emanation laid dormant in a hunk of space rock that plummeted down to his world.

Eons later, the meteorite that the Emanation was within had been shaped into a small necklace. Lincoln’s sister Lucy found it in an occult shop and bought it as a Christmas gift for Lincoln. On the Eve of Christmas she gave it to her brother. Who found it to be cool enough to wear it.

Several hours later, Lincoln’s sisters were butchered. Lincoln attempted to escape out into the snow filled forest with one of his surviving sisters. Only to find himself witnessing the monster who did all this appear behind them and kill his last remaining sister. Her corpse falls on top of him. It was in that moment that the true Lincoln died a spiritual death. Leaving nothing but a lifeless husk behind. He became a corpse in a metaphorical sense. His human soul was very much still there.

There just wasn’t anyone home. By this time the Emanation rouses from his dormancy by the cries of true despair. At first it was unable to do much. It was only an echo after all. Leaving the monster to be killed by a third party who then took Lincoln with them. Placing the unfortunate child in a hospital room in their compound.

There Lincoln laid. For seven years. He was wide awake and fully conscious. But wholly lacking in any response to outside stimulus. Never spoke. Never interacted with anyone. Never seem to truly see anyone. Never move. Never even dream.

Therapists constantly came to him. Trying to reach him. No matter how pointless it was to reach out to someone who is not there. Lincoln was so lacking that when a containment breach occurred in the compound. An anomalous monster poke into his room. It was a being fueled by nothing but contempt towards humanity. Yet, it only wandered around his room before leaving. Completely disregarding Lincoln. Having no interest in a human who is already dead.

In those seven years the Emanation stayed with Lincoln. It had no power to hop to another. But it was able to seep into Lincoln’s soul. Staining it. Causing it to mutate ever so slowly by the presence of an eldritch entity so close to his soul. For a time the Emanation pondered on whether he should directly control his body. It was after years of seeing Lincoln waste away that he took pity on him.

So he scraped what was left of Lincoln’s emotions along with some of his own to form a personality core to puppet the boy. The Emanation had learned that the third party was a part of an organization who served to protect the light from those in the dark. And he believed that he could give Lincoln a sense of purpose. Make him join this foundation to fight these monsters so no child will ever go what he went through. He had thought it would invoke some sort of response from Lincoln.

It did not.

When Lincoln died there came an issue as a result of the mutation Lincoln’s soul underwent. The corruption was now firmly entrenched. And by this time, Emanation was able to possess a far greater degree of power. To the point of pulling Lincoln away from the dark and having him reborn elsewhere. His first life failed to reignite the spark. So he will merely try again.

It did not.

Again and again the Emanation dragged Lincoln across countless worlds. Hoping that something along the line will breathe life back to Llincoln. He may have been an echo but he grew to become attached to Lincoln. Not in a human way. But in a cold way similar to how a person becomes so invested in a project that they don’t want to see it fail. In an unending quest the Emanation constantly tuned the wheel. Always nudging him to be involved in major events. Seeing if receiving actual reward and praise for his efforts will do something.

It did not.

For sixty-eight lives the Emanation had patiently waited and seen if anything at all will stir the corpse that is Lincoln’s soul. The smiling faces of those he saved. The friends and comrades he made along the way. The warm days of peace that were brought because of his efforts. He was marginally hopeful that adopting a pair of children to be their older brother would have least got some reaction from the corpse.

It did not.

It is evident at this point that the Emanation is a flawed entity. As a result of its nature of being a mere echo meant it only possessed a fraction of understanding and intelligence its former self had. That and even now it doesn’t fully understand humans. Even unable to grasp why Lincoln is this broken.

For a while, unbeknownst to the Emanation it’s because of his inhumanity and lack of comprehension of humans that he’s unable to truly empathize with Lincoln. And when he finally notices the mutations in Lincoln’s soul. The Emanation became worried. With his incomplete knowledge it couldn’t understand what is happening.

The Emanation did not realize that the corpse did in fact do something. He just assumed the Soldier did it over time. The creation of those ten swords. When he realized that something was wrong, it peered into them. And became very, very concerned.

When Lincoln died for the sixty-ninth time he fell deeper into Perdition. The Emanation became more adamant in not letting the dark below claim Lincoln. Less out of viewing Lincoln as his proper possession and more dreading what exactly the Fel kind will find in the corpse. And what will come out as a result of it.

Needing to know the depths of the mistake he made. He made Lincoln be reborn in the middle of nowhere. Command the Soldier to go to sleep to let the Corpse out. Reaching out with the power he had to transform the swords into versions of his sisters. Having a hunch that somehow that will do something. Before his metaphoric eyes. For the first time in forever the corpse began to interact with the “dream”.

Then things went abnormally The Emanation was unable to speak to the real Lincoln despite the fact he was truly acting like a human being. And the Soldier found himself trapped. Unable to get back control from Lincoln. The swords disguised as sisters became more and more authentic. Despite none of them, not even Lincoln indirectly, causing it.

In a way the Emanation was grateful for the intrusive presence for popping the bubble of Lincoln’s ‘Dream’ Lincoln slumped back to seemingly dormancy and the Soldier managed to regain control again. Now that they were back in the front seat the Emanation took another glimpse to the swords and found that he did see what he did back then.

These swords were not regular eldritch blades formed out of the energies from beyond the known universe. But they came in response to the Lincoln desperate voice that the Emanation failed to still hear. Lincoln had unknowingly stretched his eldritch energies out across the skeins between universes. Grasping alternate versions of his sisters across the multiverse. And because of his madness that he is sure to have due to the nature of the energy in his soul. These variants were dark, twisted mockeries of the sisters he once loved.

But he didn’t care.

And the Emanation finally understood why Lincoln didn’t respond to anything.

He just held no value to anything but his sisters. They are all he ever cared about in his life. Even the ones who answered his cries. Each of them all came from different dark timelines. The sole common denominator among them was that they cherish Lincoln. And so when they were near death, heard his distant plea. They happily reach out a bloody hand to cling to him.

For the time being these evil counterparts were still stuck in the form of a sword. If they had been allowed to stay in their human forms. It was likely only a matter of time before they had overrode the illusionary masks to take them as their own.

Figuratively looking at Lincoln the Emanation finally saw that it was improper to call him a corpse anymore. For he was dreaming now. But Emanation was concerned not only with the third party. But the dark sisters reach out to him now that they have an opening.

Being told that the man before him was little more than a corpse, not even worthy of being called alive. William couldn't help but feel some semblance of pity and anger for such an insistence, and the presumption that he considers him to be alive just his rationality says so. It went beyond that, to this point in his life all the good his 'rationality' has amounted to squat. He has seen true power beyond mortal understanding. And only lived thanks to a technicality on the terms of a being so detestable that it defies all he believed in justice... Yet he is sickened by happy he was by that technicality. Wilhelm 's eyebrows furrowed as he went on and on... The only thing abnormal he could see was the dismal will to survive surrounded by warped traumas of the past. "You seem to have me mistaken. I heard you just fine. It doesn't matter what I think, my rationality? I could give less of damn about it. Just about everything in this era has defied all my rational expectations. But in my experience with the undead, alive is more of a nice way of saying that they aren't crazed monsters yet. You still qualify."

As the third degree started Wilhelm started to get the feeling that more was going on with Lincoln, not just warped personifications of his sisters but even more personalities atop his own? He couldn't tell how many but it seems that here was definitely something else living inside Lincoln, using him as a vessel of sorts to... What...? Protect him?

The strange warped voice that spoke up aside Lincoln's own certainly hurt his ears, even his patron shivering away through their connection. But he didn't know if it was fear... Or anticipation. Those otherworldly eyes were certainly a good clue that another being besides the fractures personalities was dwelling inside the Reincarnated Lincoln... It was all too odd. "Took pity...? Because of his whole state? Out the kindness of your heart right?" He didn't for a second believe this being would just do this out of pity, he had a very negative bias with higher beings thanks to his... Exposure to a certain sort.

He continued to follow Lincoln out into the open road, looking back to the village one last time before it would start to pass over the horizon. But his eyes do move back to the sword that was once Lucy... Again the uneasy feeling starts to rise up from his chest as he can sense a soul... But it... It was just... Wrong. With a sudden thought popping into his head he looked to the rest of the blades as he was starting to get riled up. "Wait... Are those their original souls or... Recreations?"

Synnadine wrote:

OOC: Amadeus amadeus, a-madeus/
Amadeus amadeus, a-madeus/
Amadeus amadeus, Oh oh, oh amadeus~

Shush, lest you summon the ancient ones.

Synnadine wrote:

I'm blue, da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa

Cast it into the fire!
Destroy it!
Don't let the earworm consume You!

Wabacha wrote:

In the face of trauma, the human mind has been documented to revert to an earlier state in an effort to defend itself. Such defense mechanisms rarely are complete or wholly successful, which may explain the child's current state. But that could only be used if the memories he has sifted through were accurate. Or, more accurately, which set of memories were accurate. It would depend on if Lincoln was a child or not during the night his sisters were killed. Or it may not.

The ghostly presence looks about the deathly forest as the child played with the symbolic aberration. It was a snowy night when they were slain, and his final sister died with him out in the forest. Are his memories mixing the monster and that sister together, unable to discern the meaning outside of knowing they were important? Or is the creature's appearance signs of how she had died? Eyes gouged or clawed out, limbs torn and ripped from the body?

While it is a curiosity, the mystery is far from the most important issue. The sun fades and the nightmare grows in strength with the waning light. Soon it will come for Lincoln, and quickly. And if he was able to make his way into these deep recesses, what comes next would face no resistance.

He will have to test the boy.

Myriad stands silently as armored operators begin to appear from the shadows of the trees, rifles at the ready. They're muffled radio communication is unintelligible, their appearance familiar and their movements uncanny. They are memories, drawn from Lincoln's own subconscious, thrust in a dream where they don't belong. Their guns remain against their shoulders and they keep their aim on Lincoln, but even as they draw closer to him they make no effort to attack. It is not just Lincoln that Myriad is testing, but the mangled memory of Lana as well. He must know now if she is an autonomous dream, and if she would defend Lincoln. Knowing that is a must for this first battle against the approaching nightmare.

ZOCOM wrote:

Being told that the man before him was little more than a corpse, not even worthy of being called alive. William couldn't help but feel some semblance of pity and anger for such an insistence, and the presumption that he considers him to be alive just his rationality says so. It went beyond that, to this point in his life all the good his 'rationality' has amounted to squat. He has seen true power beyond mortal understanding. And only lived thanks to a technicality on the terms of a being so detestable that it defies all he believed in justice... Yet he is sickened by happy he was by that technicality. Wilhelm 's eyebrows furrowed as he went on and on... The only thing abnormal he could see was the dismal will to survive surrounded by warped traumas of the past. "You seem to have me mistaken. I heard you just fine. It doesn't matter what I think, my rationality? I could give less of damn about it. Just about everything in this era has defied all my rational expectations. But in my experience with the undead, alive is more of a nice way of saying that they aren't crazed monsters yet. You still qualify."

As the third degree started Wilhelm started to get the feeling that more was going on with Lincoln, not just warped personifications of his sisters but even more personalities atop his own? He couldn't tell how many but it seems that here was definitely something else living inside Lincoln, using him as a vessel of sorts to... What...? Protect him?

The strange warped voice that spoke up aside Lincoln's own certainly hurt his ears, even his patron shivering away through their connection. But he didn't know if it was fear... Or anticipation. Those otherworldly eyes were certainly a good clue that another being besides the fractures personalities was dwelling inside the Reincarnated Lincoln... It was all too odd. "Took pity...? Because of his whole state? Out the kindness of your heart right?" He didn't for a second believe this being would just do this out of pity, he had a very negative bias with higher beings thanks to his... Exposure to a certain sort.

He continued to follow Lincoln out into the open road, looking back to the village one last time before it would start to pass over the horizon. But his eyes do move back to the sword that was once Lucy... Again the uneasy feeling starts to rise up from his chest as he can sense a soul... But it... It was just... Wrong. With a sudden thought popping into his head he looked to the rest of the blades as he was starting to get riled up. "Wait... Are those their original souls or... Recreations?"

The human mind is indeed a fragile thing. So easily warped and broken. And yet so filled with mysteries that to this day there are many who try to discern what makes it tick. Uncover what makes strange quirks like people being so into amputation that they cut off their own limbs. And so when you add trauma into the mix, the brain often produces strange responses.

One outcome is that with enough trauma, a person can be locked in the mental state of a child much longer than normal, and for some cases it could last for the rest of their life.

Whether or not the source of the trauma may be accurate aside. Lincoln does show the signs of a child. While not displaying blatant signs of trauma. The scars lines on his psyche suggest his mental state is not quite right in comparison to normal people.

The most notable childlike trait is his apparent refusal to pay attention to the outside world. Children who have suffered want nothing more than to shut themselves in. To hide in their room and never go beyond the threshold of their home. They don’t want to go outside. It’s cold and uncaring out there.

So they stay in their room where they know it’s safe and familiar. And to them, they are in a whole other world where nothing can get to them. Running on their logic if they don’t pay attention to what is out there. Then nothing will pay attention to them.

In regards to these strange woods. There is a sense that neither of the two vestiges could detect what’s occurring here. For a long time it seemed that Lincoln erected strong enough walls to block them out. But structured in such a way that Lincoln can still faintly sense what’s going on out there. Like a cage high above the rest of the world.

It’s further seen just how much the vestiges know little of what is going on with the true Lincoln. The Soldier responded to Wilhelm when he asked whether they did it out of pity or love. “I only did what I was built to do. He on the other hand has no answer to that anymore. Not that I blame him, There isn’t much he can do.” For the emanation wasn’t whole enough to be considered a truly intelligent being.

At the moment they possess no further understanding. Or even come up with a plan of action. The Soldier’s role is to endlessly struggle. The Emanation’s role is to pity. With them combined it makes sense in hindsight why they have always got themselves into conflict across their many lives. Because that’s all they can do.

Wilhelm’s next inquiry made the two vestiges uneasy. “We...don’t know. He gave me words to have some control over them. But, I don’t feel that I was the one to have made them dormant again.” On Myriad’s end in terms of understanding, Lincoln was the one to have done that.

Lincoln felt the Soldier getting out of his room. And instead of confronting him to duel for dominance. He did what a child would. Take his stuff and leave. Outside wasn’t warm and fun anymore. It wasn’t going how he wanted it to go.

The visible memories give some more context to Myriad. When the Emanation put the Soldier in the room he went to an idyllic place to bait a reaction from Lincoln. It worked, as the place looked like a fun place to play in.

To stretch actual limbs beneath a real sun. Away from any chaotic place. To pretend they were normal people. And thanks to nothing ever happening in the town. Nothing had truly threatened the veil of his fantasy until now.

And so he doesn’t want to be out anymore. There’s also a sense that Lincoln doesn’t like either of his tenets. He places a lot of blame on the both of them for everything.

According to these recent memories. Not everyone was happy with them either when they were brought back into this space. A fight broke out, Lincoln had to intervene. They were in “Time-out corners” with Lana being the sole one to not be punished by Lincoln. Having had not partaken in the scuffle because she was by Lincoln’s side as if she were truly his loyal canine companion.

Who or what Lana is was certainly a mystery. There was a distinct sense that she is and isn’t Lincoln’s little sister. And Lincoln knows this as well. That this wolf wasn’t his little sister he lost so long ago. But she was still Lana. Just not the same one.

The light fades from the woodlands. A strange change ripple to herald the coming of the night. The snow covered ground began to emit a shaded red glow. The trees turn pitch black as red, childlike markings appear all around them. The fog recedes. Despite the seemingly surreal change, it didn’t feel sinister. But festive.

The way the trees are decorated is reminiscent of holidays where people regard death in a positive light. Much like the Day of the Dead in Chiliean Mexico. And like the fable surrounding said revered days and nights. Things seem to be closer to the dead. For black shades with an orange aura began to emerge about in the forest in slow numbers at first.

Lincoln also experienced a minor change. His white robes turned orange. The strange, intestine halo was ignited with a strange, otherworldly flame. Twinkling with black stars from nameless skies.

The odd child took notice of the men first. Rather than being spook as one might expect. He instead faces them, tilt his head confusingly. “Tonight’s not the night for the Kaninchenjagd Hour is it? Jeez, I must really do have a lot on my mind if that slips from me.” He seems to be mistaking them for something else.

He continues to gaze at them while Lana comes back into view. Her form changing mid-stride which seems to be an innate skill rather than the effect of the forest. Still retaining the general size, she turned into a centaur like being.

A dirty blonde draft horse with six legs for a body while in place of the head was the upper body of a woman. Her hair was a thick, blonde mane that rolled down her back and enough on the front to provide convenient censorship. From atop her head springs a pair of grand antlers on par with the Irish elk.

She galloped while scooping up Lincoln on the pass. Heaving him up on her back much to his surprise. “Those aren’t our friends, Lincoln.” The new centaur Lana spoke with a coherent, human voice with a tinge of weariness. Having sensed that those gunmen weren’t ones Lincoln let out.

Meaning they weren’t natural.

“They weren’t?” Lincoln grabs a thick bundle of Lana’s mane to steady himself on Lana. He looks out into the dark woods that are becoming “alive”. Passing strangely shaped shades that they seem to know.

Passing by on the left was a humanoid phantom standing at forty feet. It’s head was a pair of sirens that constantly emits garbled transmission and white noises. It, like many others, doesn't seem to pay the siblings any attention.

Up ahead was a large lizard-like phantom that Lana hopped over with grace. Then sidestepping a motionless phantom that vaguely possesses a peanut shaped body. The diversity in shape and size of the phantoms continue to be seen as Lana continues to trot forward with haste.

Lincoln furrowed his brow. Scooting closer to Lana’s upper body to lean against her bushy wall of mane. He let out a sad, tired sigh. “This place really can’t last forever.” Childlike bitterness crept into his voice.

“It’s their fault! If they hadn’t dragged us through so many places we could have been able to stay here forever! And now, now they drew attention to us…” His anger was quickly spent. Having already expressed his feelings on the matter again, again and again.

Turns out with eternity, even a child will have exhausted every excuse before being left with the ugly truth sitting right there in front of him. And as of late he has been slowly coming around to acknowledge it.

“I just...wanted to play here. I...didn’t want to go out there. When I was first “reborn”, I was willing to go out and give it a chance. But they brought me to such a chaotic galaxy. Those Desmondians were brutes! Raiders and warlords who only care about fighting. It was all the same. So I went back here and I never give the outside a chance ever again.”

It didn’t matter if he was reborn in worlds there weren’t as chaotic. To him, the universe was a cold and empty place. There’s no value to it. Everything there is inherently meaningless. You need to put value in something in order to appreciate it.

So for Lincoln, he values nothing out there. Therefore it meant nothing for him. There is only one thing he puts value in.

Lana didn’t have much to comment as she heard about this old chapter of Lincoln’s life. She lets him process his emotions. As he’s finally coming around to facing reality. “We had fun here. It’s funny, time is wobbly between here and outside. Out there, we can vaguely feel that millions of years have passed. But in here, it felt timeless. I just never imagined it would have an end.”

He leaned his head against her back. “Did you have fun, Lans?” His tone was that of a child who knew he can’t stop the clock. No matter how much he wants to lash out at change as a typical child would. He just doesn’t have the energy to be blind to the truth.

“Oh big brother, of course I did.” Lana spoke warmly. “And I know everyone else did as well. It may not be what we imagined when you approached each of us in our darkest moments and led us here. But the experiences we shared together is something we cherish above all else.”

Lana continues to keep her pace. Aiming to get to a destination as swiftly as possible. Lincoln took her words in before responding. “What do you think about the outside world?”

“Too civilized.” Lana was quick to respond. “I didn’t like having to wear clothing. Especially around you. I prefer the freedom of the wilderness more.” She paused. Reflecting on her memories under a real sun. “But in the end I loved it.”

Lincoln held a thoughtful gaze to nothing in particular. “It was nice...If I had one small regret. It would be freaking that Wilhelm person out.” He had seemed nice. Even though he doesn’t care for him fully. It was still a moment where he seemed okay for them to be around. And now those two meanies weren’t making it any easier for him from what he could faintly sense.

He looked out into the forest. Eyes skim over the many passing phantoms. “I can still remember the beginning of all of this. Back then, I was alone. And bored. In that first life, I could sense what was happening out there. The misfits and rejects locked away in rooms never to see the light of day. I reached out to them and imprinted them into the forest.”

The shadows were a collection he amassed over his many lifetimes. Echoes of monsters and abnormal beings that weren’t allowed to walk among normal society. “Time passes and you realize that no matter how many friends you make. They didn’t make you whole.” Lana carries his train of thought.

Letting out a murmur in agreement he spoke once more. “I was confused for a long while. Then I started to overhear conversations between those two. The Rock talked about odd stuff. But I came to understand it. And experimented with it. I got really good at it. I began to see strange and cool things. Other worlds even on different streams of time.”

“Must have taken a while on who you wanted to bring back here with you.” Lana said in a chirpy manner. She knew that it was a sheer chance that he happened to stumble across her worldline. Regardless she likes to believe that there was an element of fate to it.

“It was.” He softly nods. “There were so many. Like grains of sand flowing in the air around me. As if they were stars and I was just very bid. The dark ones were what drew me in. I sympathized with the gloominess. And then I saw each of you guys in different places across it. And...at that point I didn’t care that you girls weren’t my original sisters. You were still my sisters, no matter what you did, no matter what worlds you all came from.”

He didn’t care that Lily was an eco-terrorist misanthrope. Nor bat an eye at Lisa’s misdeeds that could make Heinrich Himmler himself blush. Or be bothered that Lucy caused the apocalypse. All of them were grim versions of what he remembers his own sisters as. But at that point he took what he got.

“It was a rough beginning. You were all at odds at each other. It took a very long time until we saw each other as family. Since then, I felt complete. You girls were all I needed.” He leans closer against Lana. Threading his arms through her mane to hug Lana.

A structure came into view. Or rather multiple built next to each other. An extensive tree fort that saw many renovations and upgrades over the eons. A gate bearing a large sigil across it opened for them to pass through.

Lincoln dismounted his sister as they rode up to a building built into a large tree. His sister shifts forms once more. Shrinking down into the shape of a child the same size as Lincoln. The siblings head on inside. The place was special for it was more guarded than the other places. It would give them or more specifically Lincoln time to come to terms with this drastic change in their lives.

Once inside, Lincoln reaches out to tell the rest of his siblings that they are not timed out anymore. He could hear varying levels of grumbling on the other end. The first to meet up with the two siblings was Lisa. Who likes them is the same size. Wearing a typical lab coat.

“How are you faring dear brother?” It was Lisa who said that. Drawing near her brother to clasp his hand with her own. For the most part she was obviously concerned with Lincoln. But there was a part of her who was pleased that Lincoln was finally making a step forward. It was progress that she had been waiting for a very long time. And she was proud of Lincoln for it.

“I’m managing.” He accepts the gesture. Enjoying the warmth of Lisa’s hand in his own. “It’s just, taking a moment to take in the fact that this place is not safe anymore. Why do these things want us so badly?” As noted before he could vaguely discern what is going on outside. In his eyes, he’s a small fish in a big pond.

Lisa squeezed his hand to interrupt that self-defeating train of thought. “You’re too hard on yourself.” For clear reasons. It had taken countless years for Lincoln to understand that it wasn’t his fault that his original sisters died that night. There was nothing he could do to stop it, he was only a child.

When they came together and got to a point to not be aggressive towards each other. They agree to actually work together, in the start they all had mutual interest in helping Lincoln. Which is easier said than done considering they needed to deal with their own personal issues first. After that hurdle was overcome they truly started to become a family. Something her past self wouldn’t have thought was possible.

“From my analysis it’s only natural that these “demons” would take an interest in you. Yes, it’s true that Immensus is a large world. So vast that it’s safe to assume that the number of sectors is above the duodecillions and that’s on the low side of estimations. The possibility is very high that there can be a googol sentient lifeforms on Immensus alone. However, the key difference here is that you’ve been infused with energies of extraterrestrial origin. Making you statistically unique on an astronomical level.” Lincoln listened to her words. The numbers escaped him but he could understand the gist of it.

“What’s more. While it’s true that being a reincarnator is hardly unique. The cases I found were entirely isolated in one sector. While you’ve been going all across Immensus.” Lincoln has heard that Avatars in the Bending Sector have been cycling through lives for far longer than he had. But compared to them he can see that he experienced more things than they ever could there.

“Alright, alright I get it. Thank you Lisa.” When she put it like that. Lincoln was starting to comprehend the value that he holds. While he’s not a good fighter like the Soldier. He has an innate understanding of the otherworldly power that flows through his metaphorical veins. Came to culminate more greater knowledge on what he can do with it. It was how he is able to hold dominion over the shades and his sisters, all strong in their own right, when they get into brawls.

Regardless, he still thought of himself as a child. By this time the rest of his sisters funnel into the room. All the same size. Mentally speaking to one another as thoughts are faster to get across than actually thinking them. They were still alert and quite annoyed at recent events. At the moment their collective thoughts were on the fact that their haven may finally be compromised.

Lincoln looked at his gathered siblings. Memories of their time here swam across his vision. It hurts that this place is not whole anymore. That he will need to step outside to face the noise whether he wants to or not.

Back out in the real world, the two vestiges were getting a sense of foreboding that some great change was about to occur. The Emananation especially, ingrained in its very existence it knows this feeling. The sensation of a Dreamer rising from its aeon long slumber. What will the Corpse crumble away to reveal it did not know. All it knows is that when it arises, the two vestiges may not exist to see sunrise.

Oh.

Oh my.

Gavilain wrote:

As you can see, John and I like to one up the other.

Don't even get me started on peen measuring contests. It takes more than a mere man to best me when it comes to such triffles

Gavilain wrote:

However, the key difference here is that you’ve been infused with energies of extraterrestrial origin. Making you statistically unique on an astronomical level.”

“What’s more. While it’s true that being a reincarnator is hardly unique. The cases I found were entirely isolated in one sector.

Lol. Also I guess Sirenhead is a honorary SCP in your books, unless something changed recently that he actually has a page now.

Also, I'll let you know now, since I won't have the time for large posts for a while, pulling things from alternate universes, when there is no universe beyond this one, is a pretty, preeeeetty big deal. There's only one way to get around the universe's Creator's rule, and that will make things very interesting if you're wanting to go down that route.

ZOCOM wrote:

The Hauntings of Setherstan: John forgets how reaper's work

Honestly surprised Nurse hasn't said anything about it since he's the one who set up the afterlife in the first place. Carver's the biggest offender. He doesn't have the time to be babysitting one singular ghost who refuses to move on. He should have given her the choice then split to continue his list of millions of dead waiting to receive their afterlife.

Synnadine wrote:

Don't even get me started on peen measuring contests. It takes more than a mere man to best me when it comes to such triffles

It's true, last time I became a housewife with two kids a dog and a 9-5 husband with a two story house in the 1960's 'burbs of Chicago. That reminds me I have to get back to the laundry.

The Sangheili Separatist wrote:

*coughs in old TGC shenanigains*

Also Wabacha, Monster Hunter. I have it now. So before I get started which is better. Keyboard or Controller?

Awesome, first off I guess it depends on what you're already used to using. I honestly don't know how good the keyboard controls are since I've always used controller, so I only know one of the options.

Wabacha wrote:

Alright, time to explain where I've been for a week. I left on a trip to go visit family what isn't doing to well about ten days ago or so out in Oregon. Due to the snow that flew through the Rockies the week before I was like "nuh uh" and decided to go south this time around. Took a southern route and went through Louisiana, ol 'Bama, and spent some time in Eastern Texas. HOWEVER, what put me under radio silence was an accident I was a part of in the middle of know where desert that left me stranded in a tiny town with no way in or out for an ENTIRE WEEK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Luckily I had my computer so it wasn't the worst but my car wouldn't start after the crash. So its probably totaled, but the claim is going by sooooo sloooowly. I finally got a ride to a town an hour and a half away where I had a rental set up, but it was just a mess. I'm able to post now since the town was in a terrible connection.

But I'm fine, just some scrapes and blistering on my right arm from the airbag that's healing great, lost the left arm, I'm in a rental now and sending this from Arizona and back on my trip.

Holy balls, glad to hear you're okay. Sounds like you've had an adventure

Do you have a sick robot arm now or no?

Wabacha wrote:

Nah I just grew it back.

Oh right you're a yoshi

Wabacha wrote:

Lol. Also I guess Sirenhead is a honorary SCP in your books, unless something changed recently that he actually has a page now.

Also, I'll let you know now, since I won't have the time for large posts for a while, pulling things from alternate universes, when there is no universe beyond this one, is a pretty, preeeeetty big deal. There's only one way to get around the universe's Creator's rule, and that will make things very interesting if you're wanting to go down that route.

Honestly surprised Nurse hasn't said anything about it since he's the one who set up the afterlife in the first place. Carver's the biggest offender. He doesn't have the time to be babysitting one singular ghost who refuses to move on. He should have given her the choice then split to continue his list of millions of dead waiting to receive their afterlife.

It's true, last time I became a housewife with two kids a dog and a 9-5 husband with a two story house in the 1960's 'burbs of Chicago. That reminds me I have to get back to the laundry.

Awesome, first off I guess it depends on what you're already used to using. I honestly don't know how good the keyboard controls are since I've always used controller, so I only know one of the options.

I've been too busy with work, job hunting and my streams to be keeping up with the RMB. If it wasn't a couple sentences or I wasn't tag, I honestly haven't read it.

Which brings me to a nice segway, I'm getting a job with Fed Ex. I all but have the job secured, I just need glasses (which I just got back home from finding out, as if I haven't known that for 10 years). So I got an eye appointment scheduled for Monday to take care of that.

Wabacha wrote:

Nah I just grew it back.

That is hardcore.
Also not good for me. You can still kick my ass in for honor now xD

Wabacha wrote:

Haha yeah, I was gonna call since I was on the highway at the time and calling was safer than big Boi texts.
That's fantastic! Are you going to be yeeting packages at people's houses or working in a plant?

I'm going to be yeeting packages. My route will send me to one of three towns on any given day. Die, Point or Sher. I'll end up making a couple hundred more every month, I'll be back on days so I won't be nocturnal anymore, AND the difference in income should make up for what I was missing to be able to move out. Eventually. We'll see on that part, once I start getting the new checks and can physically see what my actual income would be to start figuring a budget out.

Also, started skimming the reaper post...oh no.