GB Disc 1: Untold Prophecy (Round 1 - Heatstroke)

HES DEAD. GIVE UP.
You're a fool. You forget about the prophecy.
ITS BOGUS. DO YOU REALLY THINK THE STRONGEST OUT OF EIGHT WEAK PEOPLE CAN DESTROY ME? IM HONESTLY FLATTERED.
I know they can. They must.
THIS WORLDS GONE, ████. GIVE UP.
Do you not understand? This place will only allow the strongest. You will fail, ████.
WE SHALL SEE.

Eight people stand in front of a large gate. They were called upon because they were observed to be the strongest. Only one can come out to face ████. Whoever comes to be the best, shall face the ultimate challenge. Who shall these people be, you may ask? Well, you will meet them now.

Sign-Up Sheet

SpoilerShow

Username: (just make it a pun or somefin)
Name: (who you will be referred to as by ████ and other players.
Items/Abilites: (What you have and what you can do.)
Bio: (Personality and [optional] why they came.)
Description: (This is how your character looks. Describe them or put a picture, your choice.)
Gender: (only effects pronouns)

Once eight players have signed up, the location will be stated, you will be put somewhere random, and the games will begin. also-LETS GET TO IT ALREADY. Apologies. Sign Up, and may the best typer win.

Hey so 'my gender is attack helicopter' jokes are really not welcome here

Yea, what Plaid said. Not cool.

Anyway, profile.

Name: (ex-)Arbiter Anesidorius

Gender: GRANDMA

Species: Dragon

Color: Shinies (#998454)

Description: Size of a largish sedan. Strongly resembles an enormous hagfish with flabby wings, but coats herself in jewelry, gold, and other shinies in order to make herself look like a more badass-looking standard dragon. Old as balls. Like really old. Perpetually grouchy and nostalgic for times long past, although that’s reasonable because she suffer from arthritis, partial hearing loss, and other fallibilities of old age. Vaguely hedonistic and shit talks a lot but generally is Too Tired to start fights and would rather talk about her one million grandkids and/or sleep.

Powers: Super strong, super good at fighting, and resilient against high temperatures, although this is all slightly stymied by her advanced age. The gold and glitz she wears makes great armor in a pinch and if desperation or vanity allows, she could theoretically adhere more durable pieces with her gross body slime. She can also puke a cone of molten metal onto the offending target. This breath attack can be depleted but can be recovered by noshing on shinies, although she greatly prefers the taste of more valuable metal like gold.

Biography: Comes from a high fantasy setting where Evil Overlords are once in much abundance, but that era had long past. Current time is like modern setting but with fantasy trappings (presence of magic, fantasy races, et cetera).

Lives in a retirement home with equally old as balls dragons (need a name for it later). She plays bridge, lie on hoards provided by aides, and other old dragon things.

Anesidorius used to act as muscle to countless of Evil Overlords. Had countless wacky adventures, hung out with equally wacky people, and fought almost every permutation of high fantasy protagonists. Looks fondly back at those days and if prompted, would start rambling about those said days.

Anesidorius had a lot of partners in the past. Some of them are intense and passionate, some of them subtle and romantic, some of them cold and functional. Yes, she ate some of them. No, she isn’t looking anymore.

Anesidorius has a lot of grandkids. Dragons, half-dragons, dragontouched, et cetera, et cetera. She might not exactly have a million grandkids but the numbers are quite substantial. They do visit her on her birthdays and holidays. If prompted, she will ramble about them. She loves them a Lot.

I really don't think you're going to fit in with the atmosphere of this forum, my dude

Username:

Name: Peaches

Species: goblin

Gender: she-goblin

Color: It wasn't me!

Description: A somewhat dumpy squarish-looking creature, three feet in height. Peaches has a pointed little face and long, spiked ears growing straight out of the side of her head that can raise or lower to indicate emotion. Her skin is a bright forest green, contrasting her orange eyes. Currently she is wearing a stained floral sack dress, threadbare around the edges and quite obviously made from a literal sack. She is barefoot and not very clean.

Peaches is a shy young she-goblin, approaching the age of three- early maturity for her kind. She is thoroughly unremarkable in every sense, even for a goblin, and is not used to standing up for herself. Among her tribe she is something like an herbalist and knows the uses of common plants, but she is not particularly skilled at it. Prior to becoming cursed her only expectations in life were to settle down with a nice he-goblin, bear a few dozen children, and be eaten by a dog.

Items/Abilites: Peaches' shadow, once quite ordinarily goblin-shaped, now flickers and billows like a well-fed flame, sliding across and even under surfaces of its own accord at a range of about fifteen feet. It has a mind of its own, and it steals- anything it can get its wispy little hands on. These items disappear into its shadowy folds to be regurgitated at will, something Peaches has no control over. Right now the shadow is carrying an assortment of items of value, including the vast majority of the treasure hidden in the tomb that gave Peaches her curse. This includes an arrangement of wicked, powerful artifacts collected over a lifetime of adventure and slaughter: objects with long, bloody histories and terrible powers. Peaches is aware of only some of them, and knows even less about their use.

The shadow seems to have a mischievous sense of humor and does not seem to care that its host is frequently blamed for its thefts. Apart from it, Peaches has no remarkable abilities. She is somewhat pretty, as goblins go, and knows a little herblore, but not enough to be useful.

Bio: Peaches was an ordinary forest-dwelling goblin who, while hunting for wild mushrooms, stumbled upon the tomb of a great adventurer, long-dead. She accidentally broke the seal upon the door of the tomb, inflicting her with a cursed, animated shadow that proceeded to steal the contents of the tomb and, to her great distress, nearly everything else of value she encountered after that point. Peaches was quickly labeled a thief by her tribe and exiled, forced to scrounge at the edges of a nearby human city for survival. She has been dodging various law enforcement officials and incensed shopkeepers for two months, barely managing to keep herself out of prison. Her only advantage is that sometimes, if it is in a good mood, her shadow will discharge some terrible artifact to use against her pursuers- but more often than not, this only brings more trouble, and she is quickly gaining a dark reputation.

Name: Finality-In-Isolation
Species: Seer-Without-Sight, bug like race of people
Gender: Without-Within-Withhold [TL Note: They]
Color: Sun-Gold-Sand [CC6940]
Biography:
Seers-Without-Sight live in various tribes in the realm of Living-Turbulent-Host, scattered by circumstance, profession, and by ones own will. Finality-In-Isolation, at the time known as Apprentice-In-Arms-Nee-Excavation, was part of a tribe of blacksmiths, miners, and crafters known as Creators-Living-Dead-Beyond, using their races heightened ability to sense the living energy of the world to craft weapons and tools that respond to the energy of the user. Creators-Living-Dead-Beyond were self sufficient and well known, and knew many travelers, experienced a lot of trade, and happily basked in the social energy that their people fed on.

All of this changed however, with the Great White Wyrm, Hollow Moon, fell in sickness near Creators-Living-Dead-Beyond's main settlement. The creature was injured, and excited by the stories such an experience could produce, the people of the tribe worked for seven shifts to nurse the Wyrm back to health. This was the last day that these people would truly be known as Creators-Living-Dead-Beyond. Hollow Moon was pleased, gracious, and incredibly hurt by the deeds of the tribe, wishing with all of its might that it could ever begin to repay them for their debts. The leaders of the tribe wished for nothing more than the experience, and perhaps a story, but nothing else, for the Wyrms very presence surely repaid the time spent. However, Hollow Moon insisted, that it give more, and secretly blessed the tribe as it left for the skies, to travel Living-Turbulent-Host as all the Great Wyrms do.

This blessing manifested slowly, dangerously, painfully, as the first Creator-Living-Dead-Beyond lost control of her form and slew another, then herself, in grief. These incidents continued as the tribe realized what had to have occurred, Hollow Moon blessed them with a gift, one they could not control, one they could not reverse. Apprentice-In-Arms-Nee-Excavation, along with some others of the younger generation, watched as the situation began to get out of control, and turned to each other. They realized that the form change could be controlled, contained, and calmed, but it was too late.

Eventually, they were the only ones left. Stricken with grief, they destroyed their settlements, moved into the mines, and caved them in. Alone and isolated, no matter their form, deprived of social energy, they would sleep and eventually die.

Code:

TO THOSE SEEKING
CREATORS-LIVING-DEAD-BEYOND
DO NOT FOR THEY ARE GONE
THEY DID WHAT MUST BE DONE
WE ARE SORRY

SIGNED
GRIEF-ETERNAL-FINALITY

Description: Finality-In-Isolation has all of the features you would expect from a Seer-Without-Sight, mandibles, a yellow carapace exterior, a flat head with antennae sticking out from the top. They have two larger arms with clawed, four fingered hands as well as two sets of smaller arms with three fingered hands, to use as needed. Finality also has two legs with clawed feet and shorts. They are garbed in a black blindfold, a large cloth poncho, colored orange, and a black metal band on each of their wrists and around their ankles, one of two last vestiges of their dead tribe.

Even as Apprentice-In-Arms, they were always emotional, giving their best and their all to whatever they were putting their mind to. Ever hoping to please their comrades and relive them of their burdens, at the constant cost of their own... Finality-In-Isolation is not a doormat however, they respect themselves, and their allies, even more now that they are posed to be the last of their kind.

Items/Abilities: Like all Seers-Without-Sight, Finality was born without vision, relying on a sense unique to their people, the ability to see the energy of the living, dead, and otherwise. Finality relies on these senses not only to see and hear, but also to feel. This means that they have an uncanny ability to respond to changes in mood and tone, and that it is very difficult to lie to them. Finality-In-Isolation was a very physically fit Seer, and despite years of sleep, is still as agile and strong as they were in their days of apprenticeship.

Finality-In-Isolation is also blessed by the Great White Wyrm, Hollow Moon, to in moments of great emotional stress, social hunger, or similar intense moments, to transform into a beast of immense strength, agility, and endurance. Before the self imposed imprisonment of the Grief-Eternal-Finality, they could control themselves even while in this form. It remains to be seen how much control they will have after their years of starvation...

The only notable item they have on their person is a pole, crafted by their master as a gift, on the day they became Apprentice-In-Arms. As a special craft of the Creators-Living-Dead-Beyond, it responds to their violent transformation, turning into a spiked glaive.

Username: byte
Name: Hunter
Bio: A machine designed in a peaceful, advanced world, to kill those who go against the stable order of the galaxy. It is one of 14 in the line. Luckily, they didn't see much use, so there was no further budget for the project.

Description: A multi-limbed mechanical Orb, essentially. This machine is designed to hunt and kill, and very little else. It has about an average human's level of comprehension and adaptability, but far more computational ability. At it's core it is a host of nanomachines. It's specialized for long term independent action, and as such is designed to "eat" and convert parts of its environment into itself. However, it has a strict upper limit for networking purposes. It is not designed for close range combat-
it is armed with is limb mounted high caliber guns. However, it's primary means of attack, at longer ranges and for potentially more destructive effect, is "infecting" pieces of the environment with nanomachines. By doing this, and using combustible material, it can convert those procured objects into explosive gas propelled projectiles. If it manages to "infect" a target with even one nanomachine, it can track the target nearly anywhere.
Gender: Machine
color: scab colored I suppose

“name:” Rhyme
gender: binch (any pronouns)
species: god-elemental-in-flesh
color: red roses red wine red blood

Description: Average-short slender person, sallow skin, jaw-length brown hair partially tied, up, deep-set eyes. Mouth that curls easily into a smirk. Her clothes are reddish-brown and comfortable, simple flowing pants, a shirt that wraps and ties in the front, and leather sandals. She carries a dagger on a belt at her waist and in her leather satchel are a few things, most importantly a goblet.

Biography: When nothingness was pierced it became darkness, and in union with light all things were made possible. The nature of things was two, and then three. In the mind unborn of the nature of things, two-then-three lived as well.

In the union of possibility was born form. Form went forth from the union, and became three. Birth, life, and death. Theirs were all things with form and with ends. In them was born solidity, without abstraction.

But within solidity, abstraction came to dwell. The mind unborn now grasped a form to fit it and found its multiplicity. Here the two-then-three of within awoke, concepts before written in possibility but unspoken. The first-nature, the under-nature, the black-nature, the instinct undercurrent of all things, the chaos and the impulse, was of blood and love, was of song and dance, was of marriages and funerals. And in the forms of the world lived its true throne.

Powers: Rhyme acts as a powerful elemental. All things of his nature are his dominion. The reflection of this and his weakness is that his nature is that of his dominion.
He has also been a god for a long time, and knows a lot of magic and even more tricks.

Name: Seraeus Avengir

Gender: Male

Species: Lizardman

Color: #caaa00

Description: He is a lizardman, an unusual offshoot of the human species that has narrowed down to a few extant species. He has a narrow frame, a triangular snake-like head, murky greenish scales, and a lithe, powerful, tail. He has dexterous hands tipped with sharp claws. He has bright gold eyes, and he's always sporting an unreadable expression. Among his kind, he is known as somewhat of a storyteller. He seems to have a natural way with words that allow him to endear himself to any passing traveler, provided, of course, that they are willing to listen.  Seraeus is at his core a curious and inquisitive individual. He enjoys traveling all over the world and learning more. He is somewhat distrustful of humans, however, because of the massive amounts of prejudice he had to suffer through. So, he has formed a somewhat cynical shell between him and the outside world. If you ran in him, he would closely and coldly analyze you before finally letting loose a curt greeting. It is tough to get him to open up to you, but once he does, you will find that he has much more emotions than you would have expected, possibly even more than the average person. He is a dreamer and a poet at heart, and he does not like fighting that much. In fact, he's a bit of a coward. But, he is willing to do what it takes to protect his friends, if their lives ever came in danger.

Items/Abilities: He has only a set of light armor that does not actually serve to cover his body, but to enhance it. His style of magic requires him to devour a small portion of the monster in question in order to gain its powers. As such, he might carry a few basic weapons, such as daggers, small bow and arrows, but nothing too fancy, as he fights with his body most of the time. He keeps it all on his belt, and he has a small bag of various trinkets that he's picked up on his journeys. His kind are known for their natural proficiency in magic, and he is capable of using a few basic spells, like Fireball, Healing, etc. His particular school of magic is known as Carnomancy, where he eats the raw meat of a monster, and gains that monster's abilities, or if the magic is practiced to a high enough level, the ability to transform into that monster. He is also capable of mimicing spells that he sees, if he pays close enough attention. He also has unusually acute senses, able to see a mile away on a clear day.

History/Backstory: Seraeus is a lizardman, a once proud race renowned far and wide for their proficiency with magic. A genocide committed some 100 years ago has severely dwindled his numbers, however. Since then, his race has retreated to the silence of the swamp, preferring to stay far away from humans. He was constantly advised not to wander out of the swamp, but he did anyways when he was 15. He got lost, and he couldn't find his way back to his hometown. Eventually, he blundered out into the open fields that the humans call home. He was wary, but he eventually went inside one of the cities, only to be treated with massive amounts of prejudice and hatred. Torn, feeling truly alone, he ran away. He bumped into another traveler, a young female scientist who then took a genuine interest in him. He was unsure, but he decided to accompany this woman on her travels anyways. Together, they learned a lot, not just about the world, but about each other as well.

Name: Ferdinand Flag
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Color: Um, is this one taken? If it is, that's okay, I'll pick another one.

Biography: Up until late in his college days, Ferdinand was a bright and outgoing young man, and very passionate. He was involved in more than a few student protests, which usually ended in fights.
But just before getting his degree, Ferdinand took a job as a research assistant in a government-funded laboratory. The posting sounded vague, but he figured, the pay was good enough to take a chance.
He arrived for first day on the job, and a few hours later, the entire lab was a smoking ruin.
Ferdinand was the only survivor, and he was too terrified to offer any details on what happened. Anyone who pressed would only get the answer "please, let's not talk about that, I don't want to get angry".

Description: Ferdinand is a man in his late 20s, and he seems completely broken.
He apparently suffers from survivor's guilt from whatever disaster destroyed the lab, but his primary concern since then has been anger management. He's tried all sorts of medications, stress toys, and meditative techniques for keeping his anger under control.
Nobody can recall seeing him get angry since the incident, but he still never seems quite satisfied with his methods and is always looking for something more effective.
The overall effect has been that Ferdinand has become very withdrawn. He seems to have largely settled on the idea that the less he talks to people, the less chance they have of upsetting him.

Items/Abilities: At the time of abduction, Ferdinand had a container of his latest mood stabilizing pills in his pocket and a bag filled with stress toys slung across his shoulder. He was also holding a copy of a book entitled "Managing Your Anger Through Yoga", but he'd feel a little guilty about reading it because he was grabbed on his way to the cashier to pay for it. Maybe he'd consider it if the pills run out.

Name: Te!uk

Species: Orca

Gender: Female

Items/Abilities

Te!uk rides a hexapodal mobility rig for travel on land, which has two arm-like manipulators at front. This is controlled by thought, and can be synched to and used by any brain with practice. The rig also has an underslung saline tank which regularly spritzes Te!uk to keep her moist. Te!uk understands English but can not speak it unassisted, which is made up for by a speaking device affixed to her throat. It does not strictly translate, but rather directly maps sounds producible by an orca to human sounds. Ahead of all this, her most potent weapon and ability is that she is a four ton apex predator.

Description

Te!uk has a curious and playful streak but usually is stern and proud. She is used to being in control and will respond to disrespect by her considered inferiors with intimidation. She has an above average but not exceptional intelligence, in scale to a human, and skill with political machinations.

Biography

After the uplift of the cetacean species of Earth, the Orca people arranged themselves politically according to the matrilineal lines under which they had run prior to receiving the gift of sapience. Te!uk is the leader of Clan #ohhn and had been landside in a pan-Cetacean summit organized by their human benefactors when she suddenly vanished.

They are ready. ABOUT TIME. LETS BEGIN.

Te!uk is placed inside the middle of a desert. A temple can be seen in the distance, upon it a dragon. A plane is flying overhead. all around her is just cacti and rocks. The sun will surely overheat the water spritzer that moistens the tank Te!uk is in, and if she does not get out of the sun she may just become a roasted orca.

Ferdinand is placed inside a temple. it looks to be very old and dusty, the entry is blocked by a bunch of fallen pieces of the temple. The sun or outside air hasn't come into the temple although. The temple is very thick. books lay across the floor written in an intangible language. there is a banner hung on the wall, and looks very old and weak. The air in there is very stale and old, he needs to find someway to breathe fresh air.

Seraeus is placed inside a town made in the desert. It is bustling with people and shops. There are, for a strange reason, beggars aswell. There are many places for him to explore, though he must be wary as some places/people wouldn't take too kindly to a lizard dude breaking into their place.

Rhyme is placed inside a pyramid. The smell of death and rot overwhelms, and theres ominous chanting from inside the walls. The tombs aren't to be disturbed, lest you want a curse upon you. It is filled with riches and gold, if you want to take the risk. Your choice.

Hunter is placed upon a plane, seemingly floating. They can easily hijack the plane, since its on autopilot and the pilots are going all leisurely. Careful with you movement though, the loud footsteps, aswell as machine noises can disturb passengers or the pilots. Tread carefully.

Finality is placed in an underground cave. Spiders and bugs reign free down here. The place smells foul, and has many gems inside. Taking any of them could risk a cave-in, but they can help you in the long run. The cave seems very long, and its sweltering hot in there.

Peaches is placed on the construction site of a giant structure, similar to the great sphinx. The workers are agitated by your presence, and notice the supposed stealing of their materials, which is blamed on you, of course. They will attack if you do not flee, and can cause great harm in groups.

Arbiter is placed upon the temple Ferdinand is in. She is most likely annoyed to be here, due to, well, being interrupted from the nap she was taking to be called upon for some quest thing. She can see Te!uk and sees the plane with Hunter upon it. She is lucky to be practically resistant to the heat. An overall great view.

IVE DECIDED TO BE A LITTLE GENEROUS, SINCE ITS MOST LIKELY YOUR FIRST TIME DOING THIS. OR MAYBE IT ISNT YOUR FIRST RODEO? WHO KNOWS. BUT DONT EXPECT THE FUTURE BATTLEFIELDS TO BE ANY BETTER. I CANT WAIT TO SEE THE DRAGONS FACE ONCE IT MEETS ITS DEMISE, WITH THAT MANY CHILDREN LEFT BEHIND? THEY COULDNT SURVIVE. MAY THE WORST WIN SO I CAN FINISH THEM EASILY AND GET THIS DONE QUICKER.

“GHHKKZZGH – BWUH?”

Anesidorius found herself on a top of the temple. The air was blistering hot but pleasant, but this is clearly not her designated lair. Ignoring the strangely armored construct (an artificer?) and the airship, she squirmed to the edge of the roof. Where was her hoard? She leapt off the temple and landed on the sand with boneless grace, dropping not even a single coin. Where was her damn caretaker?

Only now she realized the slack-jawed tourists. Ratfolk, it seems, with gaudy shirts and awful-looking shorts. Anesidorius used to love attention in her prime but that was eons ago. Now she was old and lumpy, an expired can of walking sardines. It was her birthday today, another year wasted in Castle Caverns. She hated that she remembered.

“TAKE A PICTURE,” she growled. “IT’LL KEEP LONGER.”

“Mommy!” A small rat pointed. “The statue talked!”

Anesidorius hissed, and slipped into the temple court. The foreign nature of this environment was very unsettling to her. She couldn’t really say she loved the last place she was in but she preferred familiar. She liked familiar. The former Arbiter made her way to the closed doors and started to pull at her edges with her draconic strength. If she was gonna trek through this strange lands, she was going to load up on some treasure first.

"Oh no," Peaches said. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

The little goblin was standing on the edge of a massive edifice, overlooking a stretch of dry, dead earth. Above and below her towered smooth walls of cream-colored stone, polished to a satin sheen. What the structure was- or rather what it would one day be- was unknowable. Here there seemed to rise a wing, a face, an engine, carved from the titanic blocks of stone growing from the structure's base. All around the worksite crawled enormous rats, pushing horse-sized pieces of stone as though they weighed no more than paper.

Peaches pulled down on her ears and whined. "I hate this!" she said to no one in particular, "I want to go home!" Beside her her shadow capered madly, strengthened by the burning desert sun. She could almost see a smile creeping across its face, black on black, as it reached for a nearby pile of tools.

"Don't," Peaches whimpered, but it had already swallowed a collection of hammers. It set to work on a refreshment table. The rats nearest to Peaches turned and frowned.

"What is that?" one said, squinting. Her whiskers twitched. "Some kind of... little lizard person?"

"I'm not a lizard! Leave me alone! I'm not stealing!" Peaches squealed, but the area around her was conspicuously bare. She turned and ran as fast as her little goblin legs could carry her, down the slope and away from the monstrous sculpture.

The first thing Seraeus saw as he appeared in a dingy alley between shops was all the people. He was somewhat conscious of the fact that he quite literally appeared out of thin air, but thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed him. Great deals were the true attraction here, not randomly-appearing lizardfolk. He pocketed his belt-bag full of cuts of meat from various monsters and of varying degrees of freshness. It seemed a bit low to him. Perhaps it was time to stock up? Sighing, he set off in search of exotic meats.

After some wandering, he finally found the food section. The aromas wafted over him, and filled his nostrils. His mouth was watering. He realized he didn't have much to eat lately. He wasn't having much success with living on the road, even before he came here. Getting back to the present scene, he turned to the nearest merchant.

"Hello, may I ask where the meats are?"

The merchant only looked down on him and scoffed. "If you're hoping to buy meat around here, you're not gonna find much success, pal. Someone like YOU, you probably couldn't afford it."

"...It was nice talking to you too..." Twat, he left out. He was right, though, he didn't have any money. Nor did he have any worldly possessions he could part with. That did it, he thought. He was going to have to get creative.

Literally.

Some time later, his search proved fruitful, as he found an abandoned stall with some rotting apples on it. Grimacing, he swiped it aside. He stood up on the stall, and shouted.

"Come one and come all, hear the tale of how a lowly lizard-man defeated a mighty dragon!"

His shouts mostly fell on deaf ears, though a few did look his way. They were mostly just wondering what this guy was doing.

"Yes, I must admit, it does seem a bit wild. But, I assure you, this tale is true!"

That didn't help at all. Those who were interested before, only passed over him now. Sighing, he fingered his belt-bag. Time to get... dramatic. He took a bit of lesser dragon meat and bit into it.

"Perhaps, you have heard this tale before? Dragon-slaying tales, so over and done with, right? Let me stop you right there! This tale is like none other. This... is about how I became the dragon!"

He roared. A brilliant jet of flame poured out from his mouth, and over the heads of the bustling crowd. THAT got their attention.

"Now then, before I start, let me say I would be eternally grateful for those who would show their appreciation in, let's say, worldly matters. Maybe, some precious metals, if you catch my drift?"

Thinking, no, hoping, the words a dream or imagination, Finality-in-Isolation did not move in the dark cave that they had been moved to. The heat did not bother them, but the spiders and insects did. Small creatures, each with their own story, their own life, in normal circumstances, they would barely register on Finality's radar, but it had been so long.

They were so hungry. Ravenous. Starving.

Finality screamed as they began to feed on the lives of the creatures around them, feeling the daily rituals and paths they held and in an instant taking them away. It was temporary, an unfortunate side effect of feeding in this manner, and one that in moments would go unremembered.

"I see... Cave or graveyard? Fragile structures, smell of death and decay, and yet these small creatures persist... There is no guarantee that this cave could hold me, it is not lik-" Horrible memories flashed in Finality's mind, days they hoped they'd never have to relieve, ones that fueled a longing for death that had now escaped them.

Finality was shaking, but in control, putting all of their weight on their staff in order to stand, they had to remain in control. They rose up and felt the air.

"There are more... There is a path... I must find more... I cannot give in."

Finality-in-Isolation slowly walked to leave the cave, their mind screaming at them, begging them to stay put and return to sleep.

But it was too late, their slumber was interrupted, and while they had fed, their hunger was not yet sated. They needed to gather more strength, get more stories, more lives, only then could they find the strength to contain themself... They only hoped that it would be enough.

Ferdinand felt short of breath, and he suspected he was hallucinating.

It figured. Every time he thought he might have found a prescription with manageable side effects, something like this happened. At least he didn't get upset by it any more.

This was still the bookstore, wasn't it? There were definitely books. Knocked all over the floor. Ferdinand really hoped he hadn't done that.

He picked up one of the books, and was completely baffled by it. Not the fact that he couldn't read the title - that was normal for hallucinations. It was the fact that the book's cover seemed to be made of metal, and the title seemed to be some kind of hologram. He could pass his hand right through the letters.

As he did that, the book suddenly opened. It didn't have any pages - just holographic images that it slowly cycled through. The first looked like a space station, then there were a number of images showing the construction process of what seemed to be an artificial desert.

It didn't make any sense, but Ferdinand couldn't help but notice the space station's logo closely resembled the emblem on the worn banner nearby.

Maybe it was just some kind of image he was subconsciously fixated on. This was probably a hallucination, after all. He squeezed a stress ball to calm himself; he didn't need to start hyperventilating and make his breathing problems even worse.

He needed to get out, but the only exit he could see was blocked with rubble.

Oh god. He'd done it, hadn't he. That rubble was probably a police blockade, and the police would be here any minute, and they'd find him and why the hell did this have to happen to him...

Ferdinand squeezed the stress ball again. Okay. It couldn't be that bad. He wasn't hearing any sirens, or other loud noises... and he could still hear his own breathing, so he hadn't gone deaf. Probably.

Maybe he just felt trapped, and he was afraid to walk out the doors and everything would be okay once he did...

Except he still hadn't paid for the book. He put it on what looked like a broken shelf, so he wouldn't be mistaken for a shoplifter, and then walked right into the rubble.

Unfortunately, it was completely solid. He cried out in pain, then in a panic started squeezing his stress ball again.

Scrrkk-scrkt-scrkt.

The door was moving. The force was such that it was causing dust to fall from the ceiling. Chunks of sandstone rolled off the rubble, stopping at his toes and crumbling to dust. Ferdinand took an uneasy step back. What was happening? Cops do not usually destroy their own blockades, he thought.

Scrrkk-scrkt-KRNCH. Sunlight started to stream from the top of the rubble. A dragon (dragon?) squeezed through the opening it had no business to squeezing through (like an octopus). It fluidly made its way down to the bottom and gave him an incurious look. A – a hallucination! Ferdinand squeezed his stress ball even tighter.

“WHO ARE YOU.”

“N-none of your business!”

The dragon rolled her eyes and proceeded to amble to the bookshelves. She (she?) picked up a book, opened it, turned it this way and that – and to his horror, she tore the cover off. She gorged on the cover with gusto and proceeded to do the same ruination with ten other books. It was until she ambled to the book he carefully placed back, he shrieked out a “STOP.”

To his amazement, dragon stopped. “…YES?”

“You. You hadn’t paid for it.”

The dragon gave him a long, hard stare, peeled off something from her shoulder, and placed something on his hands. It was a handful of alien currency, cool and heavy. There was some sort of clear slime covering the individual coinage. Germs. He dropped it in disgust.

“OH COME ON, DON’T DO THAT.” The dragon whipped her tail around, catching the coinage before they made contact with the ground. “AREN’T YOU THE CASHIER.”

“No!” He wiped slime on his clothes. “I’m not from around here.”

“ARE YOU…LOST?”

“I,” he felt more shameful than he should be, even if there was absolutely nothing to be blamed for. “I was stuck.”

The dragon pondered for a moment before slithering to the rubble. She started to clear the rubble, a relatively easy effort due to her large stature. Ferdinand could feel the blazing warmth and the increasing brightness. Before long, the entrance was clear. He could see baffled tourists and the rest of the desert, a featureless span of desert and stars. Stars! The desert was in space. He wondered if he was still hallucinating.

The doors were also missing.

“SORRY, THE DOORS WERE DELICIOUS.” The dragon shrugged unapologetically. “ANYWAY, GOTTA SCRAM. YOU CAN COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO.” She proceeded to lope off to the nearest road to the nearest settlement. Ferdinand struggled to take in what was just happened. He wasn’t quite sure if the armored creature is real or not, but the fact she had direction made him consider what he should do next.

Finality-in-Isolation escaped the cave, their depreciated body leaning entirely on their staff for support. They had previously believed that the sun's rays would be of little hindrance to them, even in this state, but the heat was not only unlike anything they had felt before, it was also simply unbearable in this condition.

They retreated into the shade of the cave's entrance for a moment, to contemplate possible courses of actions. "Return? Cave is too populated to allow slumber, but not populated enough to recover strength. I must find a shelter, must find a balance."

Finality was so lost in their thoughts that they didn't notice a ratfolk sneak up on them, "Oh dear, look at you, just skin and bones, how long have you been out here?" She was shorter than most ratfolk and was wearing a poncho along with a straw hat. "Every few days I come out to see if anyone's wandered in this blasted death trap of a cave, the signs are there for a reason, oh dear."

Finality recoiled and leaped back into the shadows as the ratfolk lady looked around to ensure that the caves entrance had its proper warnings. She hadn't noticed their form yet. Finality looked around, seeing a mysterious horse-less carriage as well but nothing else. It was just the two of them, and as soon as they recognized this, something stirred within them.

"NO!" They screamed, catching the lady's attention.

"Oh, oh dear, sorry, I get distracted rather easily, allow me to introduce myself, I'm Ysin. Now are you alone, were there any others with you?"

Finality focused, holding in their urges. "There are no others inside of the cave. I do not require assistance, please leave."

Ysin shook her head and scurried to her car, grabbing a large hat. "Look at you, I cannot in good conscious leave you like this! Come, here, this will protect you somewhat from the heat, come on now."

Finality gripped at their staff tightly, but agreed and walked closer to Ysin, lowering their head to accept her hat.

Upon seeing the full figure of Finality's carapaced form, Ysin did indeed gasp, but kept herself composed as she placed a hat upon them. "Good. Now, there are a few other places I need to check out, but you can stay in the car while I do that, then we can get to town, is there anything I can do for you on the way, er?"

Finality followed Ysin to her vehicle, stepping inside while focusing on keeping themselves as they were. "I am... Finality-in-Isolation, one of the last of my kind, your generosity will not be forgotten. Er, if it would not be a burden, could you tell me a story?"

Ysin, to her credit, continued to be composed, used to people getting loopy from the heat, although they never looked the part of what they were saying. As she drove off towards the pyramids, she began to tell a fairy tale that her mother had told her when she was little.

Finality listened intently, this would be enough, for now.

Hunter latched onto the plane as it initialized.

Hunter had been turned on 6 times for testing sake, and then never again.

Now, it was somewhere completely different. From its estimations, it was on top of a primitive flying device. Further analysis showed that the plane could not support Hunter's extra weight. There was a solution to this problem that would also increase its data points, however.

Reaching down with a tentacle, it fired through a passenger window. Screams began. It reached into the window and grabbed a ratfolk, then reeled it back in above the plane. The rat being did not match any species in Hunter's database. Further analysis was required. The rat began babbling in a language that Hunter also had no knowledge of. However, it could calculate the approximate meanings of the words to mean "Help," "No," and general gibberish. Hunter would need to study another, more mentally sound creature to learn the language properly.

Using its sharp grappling fingers, Hunter began dissecting the Rat, who's gibberish quickly died off. The rats had a large brain-body ratio, indicating average to below average intelligence in the race. The muscles seemed efficient for bursts of motion over stamina. This one was on the older end, so the lifespan appeared to be approximately 50 years maximum.

While Hunter did this, it used two other arms to continually expel ratfolk from the plane. Each was about 1/20th of Hunter's current weight. It seemed there were about 32 rats in the plane, so this method to relieving weight was going to work.

The plane began spinning, likely the pilot trying to shake Hunter off. However, it was meaningless. Hunter's claws dug into the plane, and held, as a free arm snaked through the inside of the plane and executed the pilot from behind.

The plane empty, Hunter began releasing nanomachines to take control of basic steering functionality, while its free hands had found the luggage compartment to riffle through.

Preliminary Analysis complete: Ratfolk development was too extremely similar to human-kind. That statistically ruled out a distant planet. Possible scenarios: This is the future/This is proof of multiverse theory/This is a simulation.

The final option seemed most plausible. This was a simulation. But Hunter was given no role. What was the Objective? Further analysis was required.

Armed with a pocket full of gold, a belt-bag full of various mystery meats, and a belly full of food, Seraeus whistled merrily as he jaunted through the marketplace. Today was a hot and dry day, which of course perfectly suited his cold-blooded kind. He was getting a bit tired of all the people, all the attention, so he decided to explore the desert further. Beyond the boundary of the bazaar, there was... pretty much nothing at all. Just sand. He took the time to walk around the bazaar, and... still nothing. No routes or anything in or out. He found that kind of odd. Did... did everyone just live here?

Then again, he was literally teleported here against his will. He supposed this was some kind of magical prison. Like, a wizard jail. He began walking away from the bazaar. The hot desert wind scorched his eyes. He could see a lizard scurrying towards him. It looked up at him with those dumb nonsapient eyes. Then it blinked. Oh. Nictitating membranes. He was always a bit confused as to why his race lost them when they evolved. Shrugging, he reached down, and picked it up. He bit its head off. Willing himself to evolve further, he now had nictitating membranes. Perfect. With his eyes now fully covered from the sand, he walked off.

Only ten feet later, he bumped, snoutfirst, into what seemed like an invisible wall. He rubbed his snout gingerly, tears forming behind his membranes. He reached out, and his hand touched the wall. Curiously, the dust storm was still pelting his hand with sand. He felt around, walked about 5 feet in one direction, and found an invisible handle. He opened what felt like a door and walked through.

There. A road. He had walked out onto a trail of sorts, winding forth into a desert which looked much the same yet different from the one he had left. Although it was still hot and sandy, the blue sky was replaced with a night sky, resplendent with stars, planets, and the like. He looked behind him, and the door was gone and with it the bazaar. He felt a bit sad. Their food was good. He looked back in front of him, and... what was that? Something a bit further ahead of him. Some, uhh, shiny fleshy mound. He ran closer, aiming to figure out what manner of creature this was. It was... a dragon? It looked a bit different than the ones he had back home. Although the skeletal structure was much the same, it was covered in jewels and slime, not scales. It turned its head around, and looked at him. It opened its mouth wide, and he raised his hands, preparing for a fight.

"WELL, HELLO THERE GOOD-LOOKING." It winked.

Oh no.

The dragon went closer than Seraeus expected. An appraising eye, partially filmed over by blindness, observed him bird-like; the pupil rapidly expanding and contracting in interest. The lizardman politely took a step back.

“HELLO SONNY!”

Wait. What? Is this dragon senile?

“I HAD NOT SEEN YOU FOR A LONG TIME. ARE YOU NOW WORKING AS…A CARETAKER?”

“Carnomancer.” Seraeus raised a dagger in self-defense. The dragon immediately ate it, leaving him with a useless handle and mild annoyance. “I was using that,” he snapped.

“OH, I’M SORRY. HERE.” The dragon swept her tail around and produced a replacement. It was ostensibly a dagger, if you could call a falchion a dagger. It was very heavy, very slimy, and the blade almost immediately burst into flames when he handled the thing. Saraeus immediately dropped it, making the dragon very upset. “I THOUGHT YOU WANTED THAT.”

“I prefer something…tamer?”

The dragon’s tail darted for the falchion before placing a dagger in his hands. It was cool and sleek and judging from how it balanced in his hands, it seemed be properly weighted. There weren’t any magical properties he could detect – it was simply just a very good dagger, Seraeus begrudgingly admitted.

“This is acceptable.” He nodded.

“I KNOW MY BLADES,” she chuffed. “I FOUGHT IN WARS, YOU KNOW.”

“You do know where we are?”

“SON, I HAVE NO IDEA. I JUST FIGURE IF I GET TO A CITY, I COULD ASK FOR DIRECTIONS HOME AND TAKE A NAP.” She paused. “MAYBE TWO NAPS.”

“Unfortunately, I have bad news. The nearest city is a bit of a bore.”

“THAT’S A SHAME. I WOULD HAD RAZED IT TO THE GROUND IF IT WASN’T SO TIRING. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

“Somewhere more useful. Less rude.”

Seraeus proceeded to hustle past the dragon and picked up the brisk pace. Of course, the clanging and clattering behind him was evidence enough that his journey will be less solitary than he wanted it to be. At least it’ll be interesting, he supposed.

Decision made.

Hunter was a robot made to kill. In any simulation, the purpose would be 94% of the time be a test of killing potential.

Either this was a test to see if Hunter could exterminate this entire race, or..

Having scouted from high above, Hunter had seen that there were a few foreign creatures, that did not cohesively belong on this world. This could be a genocide/geno purity mission- remove all elements that did not belong.

Or, this was a test of both. Hunter would probably not be penalized for collateral damage. That was not in its design scope.

The decision was made. Hunter would kill the foreign elements first. If that failed, it would kill everything else. Having decided, It turned the plan exactly around, began converting its nanomachines' domain in the plane into accelerant, and digging through the plane for a few items.

5 minutes later.


Hunter leapt from the top of the plane, and deployed a pair of parachutes it found. While not optimal for stealth, the pair of parachutes would prevent Hunter from taking any damage. Although Hunter was too heavy to glide properly, it was designed to handle impacts of certain degrees.

Then, with his remaining control over the plane, It leaned the now empty craft downwards 45 degrees, straight towards the dragon creature and the lizard creature. The accelerant began to blaze, in preparation for disproportionately explosive impact.

An airship violently landed on Anesidorius.

Her head rattled in her makeshift helmet as the air squeezed out of her gills by a waterfall of luggage and chairs. She let out a groan – it was painful, but not any much more than a pulled notochord. However, she worried the carnomancer suffered the same fate. She had plenty of enemies but she deign to allow them to hurt strangers. She proceeded to eat out of her cage of cable and metal.

She punched through the wall pulled her head through the window. She oddly felt like a worm wriggling out of an apple – only hundred more times as irate. She felt like shouting, so. She did.

“WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS?” She managed to pull a leg out, along with a good chunk of fuselage. She took a bite. “WHAT IS GOING ON? THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY – ”

She got a hail of bullets for her troubles, her armor managed to dampen much of their potency but they were still penetrative enough to feel like stinging bees. Anesidorius pulled out in pained surprise and took to the skies with unwieldy grace.

While scanning the entire mess for her foe, she rapidly went through her mental catalog for the identity of the creature. Construct – most definitely, there was very little time between bursts for a mere humanoid. She could not taste any sort of magic in the air – definitely not enchanted either. Still, she felt uneasy about the prospect of facing her opponent again without preparation.

After all, dragons and bullets do not mix.

She flew to the carnomancer. The lizardman had already made quite a distance from the plane despite having a build more suitable for long periods of inaction. His expression was unreadable as expected but his eyes widened in surprise. “How are you still alive?”

“BEEN THROUGH WORSE,” she shrugged. “GET MY BACK.”

The carnomancer obliged and climbed on the slime-free saddle conveniently glued to her back. She sweeped up, leaving plumes of dust in the artificial sunlight.

Peaches gasped for breath, coming to a sliding halt at the foot of the great statue rising from the desert sand. She’d evaded the rats only by virtue of ducking under scaffolding too small for them to follow her, her shadow gleefully snatching whatever it could. It wriggled now like a well-fed snake, sluggish and lazy, puddling around her feet.

The burning desert sun was starting to make her skin itch, her little green scales flaking off onto the sand. Peaches scratched at them absently. She’d have to molt ahead of schedule, she realized, which meant that she’d have a dull coat for spring. How was she supposed to find a goblin-husband now? How was she supposed to find anything?

The muffled clink of metal on sand made her jump. Her shadow had expanded the fill the tent-like awning at the statue’s base where, she supposed, someone had at one point attempted to sell refreshments to the toiling workers. Glittering in in the shadow’s murky center was one of its regurgitated prizes: a golden cup as big as Peaches’ head, set with opals and rubies the size of eggs. It was filled to the brim with water, sloshing as though something had shaken the cup and only just set it down.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Peaches asked warily. Her shadow only danced in answer. She’d learned to be wary of its gifts- but she was thirsty. Maybe it was as frightened as she was, and was making a peace offering. She reached for the gleaming cup, lifting it up to her lips.

The goblinette was forced to discard the possibility of any goodwill on the shadow’s part when the cup, as soon as she had taken hold of it, immediately overflowed, the clear water rushing out from over the brim and drenching her dress. She dropped it in fright, but it was too late: water was already flooding out from its apparently bottomless depths, turning the sand around her into a slurry and sinking her nearly up to her knees. She escaped nearly in time, scrambling up onto the statue’s great pedestal as the water roared and rose.

“Oh, this is just perfect,” Peaches said mournfully, as the flood spread and spread.