Inexorable Altercation [Round V - Saint Arthelais' Hospital]

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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Will was doing his usual scans before he'd even had a chance to get a proper idea of where it was he was. Only after he'd started gathering data on the gravity (normal), air (stale), and structure (worn) did he actually look around with his eyes instead of his instruments.

One wall of the cramped, low-ceilinged chamber immediately drew his attention. Partially, this was because the ancient, tube-style displays were, while blank, still illuminating the room to some extent. It wasn't much, but when there was nothing else, the eye tended to be drawn to whatever there was, however dim.

The terminals' controls were covered in a thick layer of dust, but underneath, Will recognized what could only be an alien keyboard. The arrangement was probably designed for hands very different from his own, and he couldn't tell what the various symbols meant, but the big, flat button along the bottom was too reminiscent of a space-bar to be a coincidence. Hesitating only long enough to train his data reader on the screen, he tapped it once.

The displays brightened, all showing a logo rendered in the local equivalent of ASCII. A series of squarish markings slowly made their way across the screens, and when they reached the far side, the logo and progress bar were replaced by what could only be a command prompt. A few other self-evident keypresses later, and he was using the up-arrow key to scroll back through the command log. He tried executing a few, but he got back the same message each time, presumably an error.

A few shots in the dark later, he found a command that actually did something- a panel in the wall behind him slid open, and a pair of handles slid out of recesses. Curious now, Will went over to them, examined them for a moment, then grabbed them and tried to move them around.

All he got in exchange for his efforts was unconsciousness.

It didn't last long, though- after a moment, he became aware of a field of black in front of him. He seemed completely divorced from his body- he felt no sensations, no handles in his hands- no hands at all, in fact.

When the logo appeared in front of him, he felt like something should've dropped into his gut, had he been able to feel his gut at the time.

He could read the name now: Domain Maketta. The progress bar came a moment later, and he now knew that it was, itself, a sort of pun; the single, repeated symbol actually translated to the world "load."

When the command prompt came up this time, everything made sense to him, and it didn't take long before he'd managed to open up a video feed from the room he'd just been in. What he saw made him wish he could currently feel his heart, for if he could have, it would've sunk.

There he was, still standing, his hands wrapped around the two handles. Above them, a bit of text he'd ignored earlier as being "just more alien words I can't read" identified them as the "mental interface handles."

Experimentally, he entered a command to disconnect from the system. Another progress bar later (this one retreating in the other direction), and he found himself standing in front of the handles again, once more in possession of his body. Unfortunately, the words had reverted to being meaningless scribbles; it seemed that, while the text was translated for him while using the mental interface, it didn't last.

He grabbed the handles once more. He'd have to see if he could learn some more about this place before he went wandering around it.

After a few minutes of looking through files and making little headway, a message interrupted his search. "Unknown origin," the system told him, and something in the translation made him think that this was an extreme abnormality. Intrigued, he opened the transmission.

"My name is Eric T. Packston," it read, "and I was born aboard Cosmand City in the year 2417..." It went on to describe this person's experiences in a battle of their own, as well as describing the "all-stars battle" they were apparently going to be entered in. He also railed against someone named Vandrel Reinhardt, apparently a primitive barbarian.

Before Will could think too much about the message, though, something registered in his peripheral... somewhere. Focusing on it, it somehow conveyed the feeling that someone else was accessing the same system he was in. Mentally frowning, he brought up the feed from the room he'd been in.

He was still there, he saw, but no longer standing at the terminals. Now, he was frowning, poking experimentally at one of the keyboards.

After a moment's mental scramble, the problem of communication solved itself, and in a crude, ASCII-like representation, he wrote a single word on the display his body was poking at.

STOP

His body pulled back a bit, frown deepening, but then kept going. With a bit more effort, Will put up another message.

STOP, WILL

That time, he actually stopped. Thoughts were clearly running through his head, and he muttered something under his breath.

Will would've grinned, had he had a mouth, and he put up a third message.

SPEAK UP

"Oh, so you can hear me! Great, that makes things easier."

YES

"What, exactly, are you?"

YOU

"You're me?"

YES

"Can you, uh... explain that a bit more?"

HANG ON

"Alright." He waited, and after two minutes or so, he started, "So-"

There. This message wasn't in crude ASCII-esque. Will had apparently put together an English font, and while it wasn't the most aesthetically appealing, it worked better than before.

"Okay, that's great. Now, what do you mean, you're me?"

It's very simple. I'm Will Haven, as I assume you are. I was interfacing with this computer system via the mental interface handles behind you- don't touch them, we don't want this to get worse. I was looking at a message from someone in another one of these battles, and then I check the video feeds and find my body (you) wandering around and poking at things.

"Okay, um..." He stared off into the distance, going over the last few minutes in his mind. "Well, after that standoff with Greyve and Twight, we were moved to somewhere else in what I'm assuming is the same facility. It was a sort of entrance hall, looking out over a desert, and while I'm sure the place must've been grand at one point, it was all worn, cracked and broken. I was just making my way down the stairs to get deeper down when, out of nowhere, I ended up here. I- oh, sorry."

He'd been ignoring the screen, which now read Wait. WAIT. Dammit, you're not even looking. If you're going to be talking to someone who's just capable of talking through text, do you think you could at least do them the courtesy of looking at them when you're talking?

Thank you, it added. Now, you say there was a standoff between Greyve and Twight.

"Right."

I don't remember anything of the sort. My last round ended with Atrum- Yes, you see where I'm going.

The Will with a body had reached down to grab his data reader, and after a moment's examination, he nodded. "Another little glitch in the time-variance. I'm Nineteen. You?"

Eighteen. Damn.

The curse, both knew, wasn't because of the numbers themselves. They didn't know why, but it was obvious that whatever was causing their little time-skips had just left Will 18 trapped in the computer and sent his mindless body one timeline over. If that was the case, then it seemed likely that when the round ended, he'd be left behind, trapped alone in an abandoned facility until the place fell to rubble eons later. Damn was an understatement.

After a few moments of silence for both to consider the consequences, Will 18 said, Well, as long as you're here, I might as well be of some use. He fell silent, and Will 19 waited awkwardly for a minute or two. Then, his compatriot returned. Out the doors, two levels down. The stairs should be fairly straightforward. There's been a power spike in the systems down there since our arrival.

"Can you look inside, see who's there?"

There are no cameras there, and if I want to actually enter the system, I need to transfer myself into them. Just head on down, I'll meet you in there.

"Okay, will do. See you there."

The only response he got was a dimming of the screen as the system went back into standby. Sighing out of sympathy, he headed to the door.

It was locked.

Sighing out of exasperation, he pulled out his Blastec.

-

Annaliese was still trying to process the bizarre-looking creature before her, stalling its question with, "Uh"s, "Ah"s, and "Erm"s, when a second creature, much like the first, flickered into existence in the far corner of the room.

"Ah, excellent, Miss Nibbs! I, uh..." The creature stopped at the look on its face, then looked down at itself. "Oh, of course I do." It sighed, a clicking sort of noise, then continued. "This is probably going to take some explaining."

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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Annaliese shrank back in the throne with the appearance of the second Vorlon; she flinched and tried to shrink even more as it spoke her name. Probably more salient was the queen's reaction to the intrusion: she whipped her head around, then scuttled across the dark floor towards Will 18. As she arrived, she stiffened and straightened her neck (a gesture Will recognized instinctively as equivalent to a narrowing of the eyes), hissing "The fact that I can perceive you without using that creature's senses means you have been downloaded directly into the Cage. What is the meaning of this?"

Will suppressed the urge to raise his arms peacefully, recognizing this would appear aggressive with his new physiology, and settled for taking a few steps backwards. "Well," he started, wondering in the back of his mind why being projected in this manner gave him any kind of awareness of Vorlon traits, "that's rather complicated, but–"

His circumspect response was quickly cut off by a hiss from the queen. "Save your waffling. You are no Vorlon. As such you have no business here. You have ten [periods lasting approximately three seconds] to explain why I shouldn't order the Cage to run maintenance or restore a backup."

Will 18 heard, and understood, the word "retten"; Annaliese was treated to a mechanical voice replacing the queen's smoother synthesized one. Had she had any experience with high technology, she would almost certainly have realized she was being given an approximate translation; since she didn't, she'd have simply assumed the queen was making silly voices or some reason, if she gave it any thought.

As it was, Anna wasn't even really paying attention to the words. As soon as the queen's multieyed gaze was directed elsewhere, Anna had scuttled behind the throne and started trying to pretend the monsters on the other side of it weren't there. Why was it she'd finally found somewhere quiet and dark and alone and suddenly there were bugmonsters everywhere and they were arguing and this crown thing wouldn't come off?

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

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SpoilerThis post just didn't want to come. I had to fight just to get this much out. Hopefully the next one will come a bit easier.

Will 18 scrambled for a few seconds before alighting upon an idea. "We're archaeologists," he blurted, which the queen responded to with a skeptical shifting of the feet. "I'm a sentient piece of software designed to make my way through ancient computer systems. I, uh... I detected Miss Nibbs' distress and came to assist as best I could. We're just here to learn about this place, that's all."

A single, tense retten went by before the queen responded. When she finally did, had she been human, she would've laughed, wielding the sort of cackle reserved for wicked witches and wealthy aunts who call you "dahling". As it was, she just rubbed two of her forelimbs together, making a screechy sort of stuttering whine.

"You are either a terrible liar or part of the most foolish team of researchers I've ever seen! This planet's abandoned for a reason, you know."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"It's my prison," she responded simply. "I'm too dangerous for the rest of the galaxy, they decided, so they trapped me in my own computer and left my data to degrade for eternity.

"And you... Well, you've just ended my sentence early."

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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The queen's assertion certainly came as news to Will 18; as he stopped to ponder a response, he noticed that the area around the vorlons had become faded and edged with pastels and that he could see the other side of the throne now despite the intervening stone of the throne itself. In fact, the far side of the room, including those areas that he shouldn't have been able to perceive had he been using his own eyes, were in sharper focus than the area immediately around him. A few moments of thought later and he'd come to the conclusion that the device he was currently in was simply constructing an image of his immediate surroundings based on Annaliese's memories and left him feeling a little foolish for not realizing it immediately.

He also realized that ever since his tangential little bout of musing had begun, the queen had been oddly silent. And unmoving. It was both strange and anticlimactic from someone who had essentially just finished cackling and shouting "I'm free, I'm free!"; Will tapped his mandibles and began to say something, but was cut off.

"I appears I spoke too soon; the Cage was supposed to be unable to send or receive any kind of data and I presumed that your intrusion was the result of disabling its security entirely. It looks like you simply masked yourself as one of the testing programs some long-dead technician forgot to revoke access privileges for back when they were designing this cruel prison, and as I discovered shortly after being uploaded, that little loophole doesn't work going out. How did you know that was the only way into the Cage?"

Thinking quickly, Will 18 gave a noncommittal little gesture with his wings; "Most of my more mundane subroutines are unconscious. I just noticed the presence of some device running down here and transferred myself down; some entry program or other did the actual legwork, I just told it to go."

"Hm." There was silence for a moment, before the queen said "By all rights I should probably delete you, but contrary to what the Concordance of Sentience would have you believe, I'm not a complete monster. You're welcome to exist as long as you like, my guest and as much my prisoner as I am this device's. Still..."

Annaliese had been gradually creeping away, finding it oddly difficult to shut out the chattering aliens behind her. The queen vanished, reappearing directly in front of the witch, causing her to start and drop all of the things she'd bundled up when starting her slow flight.

"Freedom may yet prove attainable. You and I are together now, alien, and even being trapped in your mind is preferable to being trapped alone."

Originally posted on MSPA by Nehh.

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From the viewpoint of his remembered self, Voitrach examined the scene nearby. At this point, he recalled, it had been simply the fact that the interstellar dust molecules he used energy from were floating towards that location that had attracted him - his simplistic mind, seeing food carried away on some gravitational breeze, made way to follow it. Caught by a moment of introversion he tried to ascertain the scale of his own then-body and for a moment was startled to see the younger gravitational golem's thought processes laid bare before him. Only for that moment, however - the idea quickly came to him that, since a large proportion of what he was consisted of pure gravity, anything that could pick up the slight fluctuations in him accurately enough would be able to read him like a book. That actually disturbed Voitrach, who wondered whether Will had the technology to view gravity that finely - after all, it didn't take him too long to identify there were two large gravity sources in the area back at that temple. Lingering on this thought for a moment, Voitrach was distracted by his memory of himself's growing terror and his ever increasing proximity to the black hole. He could remember this part clearly. It wasn't pleasant the first time round.

The intense pressure, the frightening acceleration. It hadn't been pleasant. Voitrach, performing the mental equivalent of lurching to his feet, was only glad that they journey had seemed a lot shorter this time around. The pressure was still there, of course, but it was more bearable now that it wasn't wildly increasing. That reminded him. He was at the singularity now, his dust form entirely crushed. Now he was an entity of pure gravity, albeit a weak one, and his next step would be to take control of -
He couldn't concentrate on his thoughts. Something, to Voitrach, seemed decidedly brooding. Something his panicked, younger self couldn't feel. But all he could see was random swirls of gravitational flux, created by the black hole. He looked at himself again, absorbing the gravitational energy in a rush to stay alive, felt the crushing, and then saw the flux once again and saw that it was trying to fight back, to crush his own person in a gravitational embrace and, looking on at the struggle, he realized that this was the first time he had truly fought for his life. And even though he was not there, he willed and pushed himself to winning.

Collapsing back into reality, Voitrach narrowly avoided dropping the jar that gave him the memory and ever so carefully got back up to his feet. To his amazement, he was now some few metres from the double doors where he had started experimenting with the jar. He strode off towards the other, unexplored end of the corridor, where the bend lay. His memory had been an exhilarating break, but he had proper work to do.

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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SpoilerWoo! Nehh 3: The return of Nehh!

I have sent out a STRONGLY WORDED MESSAGE to our three slackers. They have ONE WEEK to account for themselves.

Originally posted on MSPA by PlumFinder.

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SpoilerBoy, that MESSAGE sure was STRONGLY WORDED. Well, it worked for me, it seems, so it wasn't for nothing.

Loran hesitated. Why was that hallway missing a wall? What was the point in that? When he looked over the edge he could see the floor below his. If he fell down it would be a drop of thirty feet or more.
He took a few steps back, almost against his will. He shouldn't be hesitating. He should be prowling through the structures of Vorlon, looking for prey, not cowering from a stupid fall he'd never make. And yet, even looking at it made him feel queasy. He forced himself to look down, and panic started to cloud his brain. He was not afraid of heights, damnit!
- falling and falling and the ground of hard granite and the wind rushing and -
What was that? Flashes of deep chasms and the ground rushing to meet him welled up in him. Again Loran pressed himself against the wall, and the bit of him that suddenly feared heights sent feelings of relief rushing through his body.
- standing on the bridge my little brother and he never falls except now I know he will -
It was someone else's fear, that much he understood. Someone else had looked on as the little boy had climbed the railings. Not him. He had climbed to places so very much higher than this stupid hallway, never feeling so much as a sliver of fear. And now, he was suddenly plagued with terrifying images of falling, feeling that horrible feeling in his stomach as cold wind pulled on his clothes, and the ground got ever larger. Not something he would be thinking about. He didn't fear the ground.
- yes I do always have ever since the dreary tree -
- always in the dark always looking but nobody sees -
- I swear I didn't do it I'd never why did they take my hand I didn't touch her -
'Shut up!' Loran growled to the images in his head, but they wouldn't stop coming. Distinctively they swam before his eyes, pictures of creatures with too many eyes and blood on the ground. The feelings of fear got worse with every passing second. Instinctively, Loran put his head in hands, trying to shut himself away from the intruders in his head, but even that didn't stop them. He felt the smooth cold metal of the head band around his scalp.
Of course...
That thought was his. He pulled the thing off his head, and instantly, the chaos in his head diminished. It didn't stop completely. He could still feel and hear it, like a whisper on the other side of a very silent library. He sensed it, but could ignore it now.
He threw the headband over the edge, disgusted. What kind of weapon was that, when all it did was fill the wearer's head with stupid fears? Was it even a weapon? It had to be. If it wasn't then what had it been doing in the arsenal? He inspected the other items he'd brought. Yes, some of those had to be weapons. One had a distinctive gun-shape: handle, barrel, and trigger. What else could it be?
Still, he wasn't going to take any more risks. Everything that might not be a weapon went down as well. He quickly disposed of the bracelets, and two of the vaguely gunlike things. He kept one of those, and the grenades.

Something moved down there. He heard it suddenly, while he was recovering from his exposure to other people's memories. It had to be that, he'd reasoned. This place was all about memories, after all.
Loran went to his knees and crawled to the edge. Someone was crouching near the things he'd thrown down. It was too dark down there to make out who it was, especially for him.
On no! Too high, get a-
Loran shut of the rising panic. It was much the same as shutting off his hallucinations, he found. Perhaps that was why he'd reacted so strongly to the headband. Perhaps his brain was more sensitive to hearing those memories. After all, they weren't really there either.
Electricity suddenly crackled around one hand of the person below, and even without the added illumination, Loran recognized her.
Apathy examined the items swiftly, and then looked up, staring almost straight at Loran. Loran didn't move. it was dark in this corridor, and his skin was black. Moving would only make it more likely she saw him. He would wait until she turned her back to him. Then he would get her.
No, don't go down, it's -
Shut! Up!, Loran thought back, and once again, it did.
Apathy rose up and pointed towards him. What did she mean by th-
Lightning shot towards him, and he threw himself back. It passed him harmlessly, lingered for a moment longer than it should have, and faded. Loran cursed himself. She'd only been trying to light the area!
'Alright, who's up there!' Apathy called. She was on her guard now. She knew that anyone who hadn't revealed himself by now was most likely an enemy. He would never manage to get down there and kill her before she zapped him. No time for knives, then. He grabbed a grenade, ready to throw, then pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger.
Pain! Loneliness! Confusion! Pain! Anger! Pain Pain Pain!
The gun and grenade dropped from Loran's powerless hands and shattered, and then he was on the ground as well. Holding his arms, screaming in pain. The skin on his arms was burning, red-hot metal pressed against it. He heard Apathy sobbing in his head, felt her despair, but it was nothing compared to the pain. He opened his watering eyes wioth difficulty. He had to watch Apathy! He was vulnurable! But even his strongest assassin instincts couldn't help him. He rolled over the ground, clawing at his arms. The pain had to stop! It had to!
He was only vaguely aware of the green gas spreading through the air around him. The grenade had cracked open, and he was inhaling it's contents through his gasps and screams. His mind went haywire.
'See, I told you it would backfire,' said a cold, analysing voice.
'Get away from the chasm! We will fall!' shrieked the paniced one.
'Shut up you.' said another one.
They were all talking through each other, and shapes vormed around him. Loran closed his eyes again, shutting them out. The pain was still there, but he felt it growing less, together with the sobs. Soon, he couldn't make those out above the cacophony of voices, the mixture of memory and hallucination. The pain remained quite a bit longer.

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SpoilerI considered putting an Apathy viewpoint in there, but decided against it. For one, I imagine having someone break in her memories would have some effect on her as well, and I don't think I know her well enough to write about that.
Also, I kept the contents of her memories vague, for the same reasons. At least her original description makes it quite clear the pain was really there, once.

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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SpoilerI am so proud of all of you.

and so disappointed in some of you.

Since Kaitostrike has been absent for an extensive period of time, he shall receive the punishment of being turned into Dragon Fogel.

Let this be a warning to those of you who refrain from posting here. At any moment I can turn you into Dragon Fogel or Malky Top or Schazer or a great other number of willing writers. So keep IA moving (at least a post a week) lest this terrible fate befall you.

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SpoilerAlso Hijack, I know you're watching this. Your presence has been requested in Round 3. Please meet with the secretary at the "Reply to Thread" button.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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In related news, reserved.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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After walking through several nondescript hallways, Felix Atrum had concluded that the Vorlonians must have undertaken their research into memories at the cost of their sense of design. This building was so bland.

Finally, he had found an interesting room. At first glance, it seemed to be filled with metal bookcases; upon closer inspection, however, the "books" turned out to be colored boxes.


Curious, Felix pulled one out from the shelf and tried to open it. But it seemed to be sealed. He grabbed a box from another shelf with the same result.

An ordinary man might have given up, or stubbornly decided to check every box. Felix Atrum, however, had a simpler option; he created several shadow clones and had them scour the shelves for a box that could open. Meanwhile, he grabbed a box and started searching the room himself; perhaps there was a key or some other mechanism for opening the boxes.

He found it sooner than he expected. The "key", as it turned out, was a small light attached to the wall; the box popped open in his hand as he walked past.

Inside was a circular band. It seemed to be about the right side for Felix's head.

Of course, Felix knew better than to put unidentified objects found in alien ruins on his head; he recalled his clones, and had one wear the circlet.

He was surprised as the clone's shape changed. It took the form of a small creature, about the size of a cat, but more insectoid in form. The band rested on its head.

It mumbled something incomprehensible, then paused and walked towards the back of the room, motioning with one of its legs; apparently it wanted Felix to follow.

He complied. He needed to know if he could get that part of himself back, after all.

The creature stopped and pointed to a box on the top shelf. Felix took it down, and noticed that it opened easily; this one held not a circlet, but a smaller object. Felix couldn't quite identify it, but the shape seemed vaguely familiar.

The small creature gestured to the side of its head.

Ah, that was it. The device reminded Felix of an earring. Warily, he placed it on his ear.

"There. Now you should be able to understand our language," said the creature. "I am, or perhaps "was" would be more accurate, [highest title of nobility, second only to royalty proper][given name, male] [surname] the Third. Please identify yourself and explain your presence here."

Felix heard the words "Sollipor Quostus Exardo" and understood their basic meanings.

"I am Felix Atrum. I was brought here by an otherwordly force, along with five other beings... no, six, the being who brought us here said he would remain."

"Why were you brought here?"

"To fight each other. At least, that was what we were told. I believe there was also something about us acting out the events of a book."

The Vorlonian paused. It seemed to be debating something.

"Do you wish for assistance in fighting these other beings?"

Felix eyed the creature carefully.

"It sounds to me like you're offering a deal."

"How observant. That is indeed the case. It is a very simple offer; I wish to see our Queen once more. Assist me in this, and I shall guide you to our strongest weapons."

"Interesting." Felix glanced around the archive. "Is she in here?"

The insect made a motion that seemed to approximate shaking its head; with the earring's aid, Felix recognized it as a negative regardless.

"She was imprisoned. Isolated."

"And you want me to help you free her?"

"No. She is too dangerous, I realize this. But I... She is alone. I want to be with her."

Felix was somewhat surprised at first, but it did make a certain kind of sense.

"All right," he said, "lead the way."

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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Anna gulped. It was just a reflex. Frankly, she hadn't had anything to drink since all this whatever it was had started, so it was to be expected. There was a giant bug teleporting around, staring her down, and claiming that they were "together" now, but Anna was just gulping because she was thirsty and a little surprised. She backed up slightly just to maintain a polite distance between the bug queen and herself.

"What do you... I don't..." These and several more sentences tumbled out of her mouth, never getting farther than a few words before she realized she had no idea where to do with them. After a good few attempts, she gave up and lapsed into silence, waiting for the not terrifying at all monster to say something else. Eventually, the silence was broken by the queen vibrating her wings with annoyance.

"Fine. I was going to avoid this, but it's clear you're going to be no help whatsoever in getting this partnership started. I'm not sure why I was going to bother."

The queen didn't visibly change at all, but Will 18 felt... It was hard to describe what he felt, or how he felt it for that matter, but there was instinctual knowledge that something was different. To accent whatever was happening, the crown on Annaliese's head began emitting a low hum; anyone present who could detect the presence of electromagnetic fields would have seen a sudden spike in activity. Moments after the humming started, a shaking Annaliese went still, slumping against the rear of the throne; her eyes hooded and her jaw slackened as though she'd been knocked unconscious by a precise blow or perfectly-dosed tranquilizers.

Will panicked as he watched... Whatever it was the queen was doing. Not sure yet of how to project himself around Annaliese's perceptions and memories the way the queen had, he settled for scuttling across the imagined floor, shouting and waving. "Hey hey hey! What'd going on here? You're not hurting her or anything, are you?"

With another sigh equivalent, the queen jerked her head up. As she did, the crown quieted and the witch sat up slightly, eyes a bit unfocused and full of drowsiness. "No, of course not. What do I have to gain by hurting the person I'm bound to?"

It made some sense. Still, Will 18 was pretty uncomfortable with how things appeared, and he stood his ground. "Well, I just thought that maybe you were... I don't know, taking over her mind or something. I mean, she's kind of..." Here he waved his antennae vaguely in a gesture that would have been quite condescending if Annaliese had been paying enough attention to see it. "... But she doesn't deserve anything like that."

The queen would have rolled her eyes if she had been a human. "No, I was just getting an overview of her memories and personality. I'd like to know who I've been stuck to and what's going on." She stepped forward slightly, stance slipping into one with a hint of aggression. "And in any case, if I had been, what could you have done to stop me? It's not as though I'd have just not done so because you asked."

Will subconsciously adopted a submissive posture without realizing it or having any idea why he would have done so. "I... I suppose not."

The queen turned back to Annaliese who was beginning to rouse herself in earnest. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to actually learn something about this alien and her life. You'd be wise to refrain from interrupting again; while I'm in her deep memories, a sudden withdrawal could actually prove harmful."

The hum began again, and Annaliese fell back to the throne once more. Will paced slightly, but kept his thoughts to himself. All he had to do now was wait, he supposed; hopefully his other self would show up soon.

Originally posted on MSPA by Nehh.

---

Voitrach reached the corner and turned, neatly. In front of him lay a second expanse of corridor, at the ultimatum of which a towering pair of elaborate thrones were seated, which drew the eye like a duo of glowing binary stars. Smouldering probably would have described them more accurately, however - both were chipped and broken in several places, and the rightmost one had its back split longitudinally by a large crack through the carved stone. Voitrach, his attention caught by the thrones, was however distracted by a single large bang, that issued loudly and then echoed between the rows of memory holders. That sounded close by, thought Voitrach. He considered the possibility of it being another contestant, maybe trying to break through the locked double doors back at the end where he had been left. Thinking that to be the case, he rushed towards the twin seats - but found himself in a smoking crater. Locals, making threatening gestures with some kind of multiple-pronged instrument, surrounded the edge of the pit. He pulled himself to his feet and rocketed away through the atmosphere.

Back in deep space again, Voitrach went over the situation. He had been there, in the middle of the corridor, when he had heard a bang - possibly an intruder, possibly something else. He was still unsure if time actually passed during these memories - if it did, then maybe the competitor would have found him by the time he woke up. That could be a dangerous situation. An element of doubt about what he was thinking crept into Voitrach's mind, however - dangerous? He very well knew that if he came up against most of them in a one-on-one fight he would likely emerge completely unharmed. More likely, he realised, he just didn't want to hurt anyone. Very well, but this was a battle to the death. If it came to the last round, would he just stand there and let himself be killed? No way. Therefore, that thought concluded, you may as well blast the next one you meet into hundreds of tiny pieces and see how they like that. Voitrach saw this as sound advice, and very true advice as well, but he doubted he could take it. What if he met Will? What if he met Anna? The thought of Annaliese, scattered in chunks around the landscape, was too much to bear. Thoroughly disenchanted with that chain of thought, he looked out around him instead. A battleship lay ahead, all weapons trained on him. Luckily they used bullets and torpedoes, else even he might have had trouble fending off their impressive display of firepower. He watched as he turned back the barrage, scattering it into the infinite jet expanse. Then he snapped out.

Luckily, nobody was near him as he rose. Still, somewhat spooked and cautious, Voitrach decided he couldn't really overdo safety. Warier than a hawk can ever be, Voitrach checked a large area around him for moving gravity sources and found no trace of any. A relief, he supposed, as he resumed his walk to the duo of decorated seats. On closer inspection, the floor around them didn't really match up with the rest of the tunnel he was in - the floor was lower and the ceiling was higher, making it look as if it had been designed to fit a slightly larger place. The thrones, as well, didn't look that comfortable - for instance, there appeared to be a row of decorative spikes along where somebody's arms would go. They weren't sharp, but they made sitting rather awkward. Maybe it was to help with a quirk of insectoid limbs? He couldn't tell. Glad to have finally reached the end of that excessively long corridor, he sat down.

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

---

As Felix and his new companion walked down the hallways of the complex, they came to a small doorway.

"This laboratory will serve as a shortcut," said the Vorlonian noble. "I should note, however, that there is a device inside which may still be active. It is largely harmless; it simply calls submerged memories to the forefront of the mind. If that is a problem, we will take another route."

Felix sneered. "I can handle my memories."

They entered the room. Quostus lead the way through piles of mostly-abandoned machinery; there was a faint, but noticeable, hum filling the room. It grew louder and then quieter again at steady intervals.

"The noise suggests the device is still active. Our scientists were using it to test a new energy generation method; it seems it was effective, if it still works after all this time."

Felix said nothing; due to the effects of the machine, the Englishman had suddenly recalled Gias' words as the round had opened.

"Here a great battle was once waged against a queen who sought to disrupt the balance of this universe."

The Vorlonian turned to Felix. "Did you recall something? Your face went blank for a moment."

The self-styled villain nodded.

"Yes. I recalled the words of the being who brought us here. He said that a great battle was waged against the queen. And now I'm wondering something. Who fought against her? Was it a revolution by your people?"

The insectlike creature performed the same gesture as before.

"No. In fact, there is a reason why we - our memories, rather - were imprisoned, rather than annihilated. It has to do with the beings who defeated us."

They stopped an another door, which the Vorlonian opened before continuing his story.

"They called themselves the Balancers. They said we were too powerful, and could not be allowed to continue gaining power. They fought us, and destroyed our bodies. But they permitted our memories to remain. We were only to be released once the rest of the galaxy had caught up to us technologically."

Felix looked somewhat puzzled.

"But you weren't locked away - not very tightly, anyway."

"That is because access to this complex is supposed to be restricted to the Balancers. Only the queen and a few of her more dangerous subjects have additional security measures in place. I suppose the man who brought you here has his own way of overriding the security measures, if his power crosses worlds..."

Felix shrugged.

"I suppose. I know very little about this Gias."

The nobleman stopped suddenly. Felix nearly tripped over his small body.

"Did you say Gias?" Quostus asked.

"Yes, that was the name he gave. Why?"

"Because that is the name of our queen's executioner." He started to scurry faster through the hallway. "I wish you had told me sooner. She will wish to know of this."

Originally posted on MSPA by PlumFinder.

---

Focus - Grab - Fold.

One of the many voices surrounding Loran died away.
'- because you're totally, like, scary, and if there's anything I really don't want to see, it's scary. I mean -'
That one was so annoying. It would go next. Loran focused on that one hallucination, not just the sound of it, but the feel of it, until it became more present, louder and clearer than the others. Outlines made clear, he reached out with his mind and took hold of the entire package, voice and pitch and words and all. With a final effort, he folded the hallucination inwards, pushing it back into itself, until it faded out of existance.
Loran exhaled in relief. Nearly there.
The voice welled up again, softly, continuing its tale like nothing had happened. Loran groaned and concentrated, pushing it away hard, and again it died. He waited, tensed, for the voice to return, but it didn't, this time. Still, it looked like he had pushed his mind to its limits.
He really wasn't sure what had happened. The device he had used, whatever it was, had somehow made his mind, already prone to showing him things that weren't here, even more active with hallucinating. It was like floodgates in his brain had opened, and now he was surrounded by stupid images and voices that his brain projected for him. It probably had something to do with his memories. That was what they were good with, these people, wasn't it? He had probably made his memories more accessible or something, and his brain was happily making use of it. Not just his own memories, even. Many of the hallucinations he was sure didn't come from his own mind. Lingering memories, perhaps, from other people who had lived here. For all he knew the memories were stored somewhere in this place, and he had merely become a hyper sensitive receiver for them.

One more, then he'd open his eyes. Hearing the voices was bad enough without seeing the shapes.
'- queen roam free. Must activate the emergency shutdown. Can't let the queen -'
That one would do. It was no more than a low whisper, but it sounded extremely agitated. Loran held his head in his hands and screwed his eyes even more shut. He had to concentrate. C'mon, one more, he could do it.
Focus... Grab... Fold - Slip... Grab! Fold!
It dissappeared just as it started reciting a bunch of instructions. Loran took a deep breath and wiped the sweat of his face. His head was pounding, like he had literaly stuffed it with hallucinations. He just hoped it would go by. It never used to last long, the pain, when the hallucinations had been small and weak, but he wasn't so sure if this headache would ever go away.
'So are you gonna move now, or what?'
One of the hallucinations had adressed him. Though Loran didn't look, he could feel which one it was. This one was particularly strong, only topped by the other one shuffling around behind Loran's back. They were both conjured by his own mind, from his own memories. Those were always stronger.
'I am particularly strong, though. Makes sense. I'm me.'
Loran opened his eyes, preparing for the worst.
He was still in the same large hallway, still on a ledge above another passage, where he had tried to ambush Apathy. That was good. At least he wasn't hallucinating his surroundings. Except maybe the oranges growing from the ceiling. He wasn't sure if they had been there all the time.
'Good,' the same voice that had addressed him earlier said. 'Now let's move. Dying once was bad enough.'
The voice belonged to a farily tall man, leaning against the wall near Loran. He was wearing a long dark brown trenchcoat and was smoking some kind of purple cigarette. His skin was almost unnaturally tinted, and a short horn split his hairline above his right eye.
He looked somewhat familiar to Loran.
'I must say,' the man continued, blowing a purple cloud of smoke into the air, 'I like this coat you imagined for me. And this stuff is pretty good as well. Better than anything I tried during my life.'
He indicated the cigarette.
'Your life...' Loran repeated. 'Are you dead? Are you one of my victims?'
'Not yours,' the man said. 'Will's. Bastard shot me.'
'Ah.' Understanding came quickly. 'You're him. The guy who died in the first round... What's your name?'
The man shrugged.
'Dunno.'
'You don't remember your own name?' Loran asked.
'You don't,' the man corrected him. 'I'm just a memory. If you don't know something, neither do I.'
'Right,' Loran said, getting up and moving towards the edge. 'Good. Now that that's cleared up, let's -'
'It's Greyve, by the way,' the man said. Loran turned back towards him.
'You just said you - I didn't remember!'
'Clearly you did, somewhere in the back of your mind,' Greyve said, shrugging again. 'Or you just made one up. Is possible too.'
Finally the hallucination behind Loran spoke up.
'My psychological subroutines indicate a 50% chance of that name being made up.'
Loran groaned. Of course.
'Why,' he asked, rounding on OTTO, 'am I hallucinating the two of you? Why not someone I actually want to hallucinate? Why not Gladys? Gladys was nice. Until she tried to blast my head off.'
'My advanced medical knowledge tells me our memories may be more available, since our demises only recently happened. You do still automatically make a mental note of all who die in your vicinity, don't you?'
'It's second nature to me,' Loran grumbled. If ever he hated a part of his assassin training, it was now. 'And OTTO didn't have 'advanced medical knowledge', so shut your trap.'
'Didn't he?' the robot asked uncertainly.
'I think he didn't,' Greyve said.
'Shut up! Loran snapped. 'You're in my mind, so do as I say! I need to go see what happened to Apathy, and neither of you is going to distract me with idle chatter!'
'I bet she didn't hear any of that,' Greyve said, rolling his eyes. Loran raised a warning finger at him, and went to peer over the edge. As he had expected, Apathy was gone. She would've killed him already if she had still been down there. In all likelihood, she had experienced a shock resembling the one Loran had taken, but without the following mass-hallucinations. He could try to follow her. If he was lucky, she had moved away fast, leaving a clear trail.
'Don't bother with that,' Greyve said. 'She made a false trail not far from here. She's not entirely stupid, you know.'
'She is currently hiding two floors down, several hundred meters to the west,' OTTO added.
Loran nodded in thanks, and then froze, turning towards the two dead contestants. They were dead, he told himself. He was just hallucinating them. But then...
'I have no idea where Apathy is,' he said slowly. 'So why do you?'

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

---

Will 19's journey had been surprisingly uneventful. Granted, he had passed through the occasional lab or weapons storage facility, but as he had been absent for the round's introduction, and Will 18 hadn't been able to fill him in, he wasn't particularly inclined to test out the various unknown devices he kept coming across - especially given what had happened to his previous incarnation.

The uneventfulness came to an end as he began to examine the door leading to his destination, only to be spotted by Felix Atrum just as he started trying to open it.

"Ah, my good Mr. Haven!" he said. "Allow me to introduce you to my new acquaintance, Sollipor Quostus Exardo. Sollipor is his title, by the way." He pointed to a small creature beside him. "He's borrowing some of my Black Matter in order to be with us."

The shadowy insectoid said something incomprehensible. Will looked puzzled.

"Ah! I'd forgotten, you must not have the translation program that I do. Well, the Sollipor here was wondering who you were and why you were headed to the Queen's prison." Felix paused, and then spoke to the insect in incomprehensible words. "Pardon me for that interruption. You see, it just struck me that he can't understand English, either. In any event, I informed him that you're one of my opponents in this battle, but that I'm in no particular hurry to dispose of you." Felix raised a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Incidentally, why are you headed to the Queen's prison? I must admit, I'm curious to know that myself."

Two thoughts ran through Will's mind, but neither How in the hell are you still alive? nor How dare you talk to me like that after what you did? seemed entirely appropriate responses considering both related to a completely different timeline.

And for that matter, his past experiences with Atrum, even if this wasn't technically the same man, made him wary of revealing too much information. If there was a way to abuse the knowledge of his timeline jumps, Atrum would likely come up with it.

"Is that where this is?" he said nonchalantly. "I've just been exploring."

"Ah, the spirit of exploration!" Atrum's smile widened. "I can sympathize with that, my good man. Indeed, I suppose ultimately, that's what brings me here. Well, you could hardly have picked a better room to investigate. The Sollipor here - I'm not sure if we're on first name terms yet, you see - would like to see the Queen. Keep her company. I suppose his memories have been lonely all these years - and hers too, for that matter."

Before Will could ask any questions, or Felix could translate for his companion, the door suddenly swung open, and a very confused-looking Annaliese Nibbs stepped out.

"My, my!" she said, in a voice that Will didn't recognize. "It seems I have more company than I thought."

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

---

Apathy ran frantically. Memories upon memories swarmed around her, her own memories replaying at random. They're chasing me!...Alright, who's up there!?...They've breeched perimeter defenses!...No time for knives, better shoot. With each memory came a vision, a flash of senses: the sounds of explosions, feelings of remorse and terror. In one instant she was fleeing from some glowing, ethereal ball. In the next, she was pursuing and killing insect-like creatures who scurried through the corridors. An overbearing sense of justice solemnly drove her on.

They were just flashes, but they were powerful and disorienting enough that Apathy felt she must escape from them. She tried to concentrate, to ignore the distractions and focus solely on her here and now. Her electrically-charged brain, however, made any attempt at concentration futile. At each new memory, her powers reacted to it. They forced her to focus on the apparent danger. The instinctive reaction had served her well for years. She had never thought she'd have to shut it off.

The only point where her better judgment and her fears agreed was in escape. Whatever had happened, whoever had attacked her, she needed to get away from. Loran. Briefly she remembered pulling the trigger at...herself. For an instant she knew the memory had to belong to the assassin. A flood of forced memories shattered that instant, however, and Apathy kept running.

If she had been able to, she would have noticed a darkness ebbing into the corridor she fled through. It seeped in through cracks and joints, under doorways and vents. Like a black tar, it dripped out of leaky pipes, and bubbled through the flooring. It was nothing that belonged to this complex, or to this world. Gradually it obscured the lighting, absorbing and dismantling the energy that would seek to penetrate it. The darkness coated the floors, walls and ceiling, until finally Apathy was fully contained in a room of nothingness.

Had Apathy fought against this alien predator, filled it with all of the electricity and magic she could muster, she, maybe, perhaps, could have escaped. As it was, she stopped running. There was a stillness around her. The memories that had plagued her were quiet. Portions of her own memories still jumped to the surface at times, but for the most part, she had found some mental relief.

In the light barren room, Apathy was blind. She shot a testing bolt in front of her, hoping to illuminate her surroundings. The electricity vanished a few feet ahead of her, sucked into the blackness. No light had bounced back from the walls. Apathy had only caught a glimpse of her gloved hand.

Small bolts of electricity arced around her fingers - a second attempt to gain her bearings. She stepped slowly forward, reaching towards the darkness. Suddenly her hand went cold and the light was gone once more. She jerked the hand back and tried to relight the room, but the cold and darkness stayed. With her left hand she attempted to illuminate the right, but all she could see was her blue sleeve trailing into more darkness.

A flash, she stood, surrounded by eight robed figures. All of them seemed to be waiting on her guidance. Another flash, she felt relief, confidence. Seven figures accompanied her as they charged toward an eighth. A third, it was her home, one of Apathy's own memories, a ragged band of hoodlums had just broken in. Flash. More darkness and a profound confusion filled her. A thought in the memory echoed her own. Where am I? What is this?. Another shift, and Apathy saw her orphanage fading in the distance behind her.

More thoughts echoed around though her, a conversation this time.

And why this one?

He holds the key., Apathy's mind reeled with distrust towards this voice.

Then who should he replace?

Hardly matters. Whoever is convenient.

For a moment, the flashes ceased. Apathy felt the cold rising up her legs, over her shoulders, across her chest. She only felt where it approached. Her arms, her feet, everything already covered, seemed to have faded away.

She couldn't struggle now. She was already trapped. As the void stretched across her body, enveloping her completely, a final memory rose to the surface. She was young. She sat on the outskirts of her shanty with her parents, much like any child, without a care in the world.

----

The darkness vanished quickly, gone from the complex and the world. Apathy no longer remained either. The corridor was calm, undisturbed, as if neither the darkness nor the girl ever existed.

Then, suddenly, curiously, a small gnome-like creature dropped into the corridor from the ceiling. There was no flash or flood of darkness to announce his presence. Where no gnome was before now a gnome was. He rubbed his sores briefly and instinctively checked the small key he held around his neck. There was, to his surprise, a colorful strip of paper tied around it. Wondering, he opened it, and read the contents:

You've been entered into a contest.

Try and stay alive.

Show Content

SpoilerI'm afraid I'm running out of time to give a proper explanation right now, but I'll be sure to drop one off later tonight. Simply put, both Kaitostrike and Hijack have been removed from IA, and replaced with Dragon Fogel and Niall, respectively. They are just as eligible to win this contest as anybody else. DF will be continuing to control Felix (at least for the time being), and Niall has designed a new character for the battle.

Parset:

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SpoilerUsername: Niall

Name: Parset

Gender: Neither, though appears to be male. Male pronouns are used when referring to him.

Race: Minnish Gnome. This race of gnome is known for its diminutive height, simple mindedness and lack of vocal chords. They appear very similar to garden gnomes, only their clothes and hats vary wildly from gnome to gnome.

Color: #784121. I actually just mashed some numbers for this hex colour.

Weapons/Abilities: Parset has no weapons and no need for them. He only two possessions are a key on a ribbon around his neck and a pair of drumsticks with a large handkerchief tied to one in use as an impromptu swag. Inside the handkerchief is a small bundle of sundries like apples, dried meat, a flint and other miscellaneous foodstuffs.
Parset has no physical abilities. He is small and thus cannot run very fast. His only ability is magical. By playing a tune using a musical instrument of any sort, he can manipulate physical properties of any given world. These include movement, light, sound and any other elements of a physical nature. These spells on their own are not extremely strong, perhaps the levitation of small objects or creating a weak light to illuminate an area, but a well practiced Minnish Gnome Band can cast some powerful spells.
While Parset cannot speak, he knows how to write well and has a few spells that can perform other forms of communication. Besides, as a member of a mute race, he is well versed in non-verbal communication.

Description: About 60 centimeters high (23.6 inches), Parset is the average size of a Minnish Gnome. As with all Minnish Gnomes, he wears clothes made tailored to his height. His choice of clothes are a button-up white shirt, brown pants and a trenchcoat. A Minnish Gnome will almost never be seen without their hat. Parset's is a black top hat with a parking ticket stuck in the hat band. Around his neck is a red ribbon with a latchkey attached to it.
Parset compulsively tries the latchkey around his neck into any small space that resembles a keyhole. It is unknown as to why he does this, but he will continue this exercise compulsively. He couples this action with day to day living, trying the key in different places as moves to and from places in his daily life. He has never tried the key in the same space twice, which leads those that know him to believe he is searching for a specific keyhole to unlock. It's often surmised that he is not that bright, being that he will try to unlock any hole in the ground the key will fit in. This isn't true. Parset has a reasonable intelligence, but his anxiety will get the better of him and he will double check that any hole he has seen isn't a keyhole.

Biography: Every village in every country that is part of the Warm Continent contains a population compromised of both Human and Minnish Gnome occupants. Minnish Gnomes are treated and act as a servile race while Humans, under Human law, are the only species recognized as full citizens. Minnish Gnomes have slight magical abilities which are often utilized as a substitute to manual labor. By Human law, each citizen is designated at least one Gnome for use under their employ. Subsequently, the ratio of Gnomes to Humans is approximately 1.7:1 per town. The Gnomes are often employed as servants to do the cooking, cleaning, babysitting and other lower class tasks. While they are not paid direct money, each Town is responsible for providing a Gnommish Cornucopia weekly that is supposed to provide the Gnomes with enough food to last the week. In harsh winters when the granaries run low, it is often the Gnomes that go without.

Despite their apparent predicament, Minnish Gnomes do not seem to resent their position in society. Perhaps it is their timid nature, that they shy away from conflict and rarely break laws, that is the cause of this imbalanced society. Perhaps it is that this is how is has always been, that it is now all the Gnomes know. Perhaps it is their inability to voice how they truly feel. Perhaps it is something more sinister.

Regardless, most Gnomes will go their whole life without altercation. They are born, live and die in a single Town, only ever leaving if they are required to by their employer. Rare it is indeed to see a Gnome traveling by himself along a road, yet this is where you will find Parset most days. He is the outlier amongst his peers, a wayward nomad. He often sleeps by the side of the road, far enough away from the edge to avoid being discovered by drunken travelers looking for a punching bag. When he does stay inside the boundaries of a town, he will find lodging with one of the more kindly Gnommish families, paying for his rent in food stolen from the last town he visited.

Parset's background remains a mystery to most. His keyhole searching, combined with his nomadic nature is enough to pique the interest of the more observant Humans and Gnomes who meet him. It has been noted he has refused to take orders from humans, often sarcastically saluting to them if they give him a direct order then walking away in the pretense of going to do whatever task was given to him, but never carrying out said task. In the few towns he has returned to more than once, had you lived there all your life you would have noticed that the key around his neck is a very recent addition to his apparel. To most, he is not a genuine concern, and thus is treated similarly as to that of a crazy homeless man, except without the occasional philanthropy felt for him.

Edit: FURTHER EXPLANATION

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SpoilerWith the slowing pace of IA, there were a couple of options available. Kaitostrike had vanished from the forums and was next-in-line for replacement or elimination. Hijack hadn't posted since round 2 and (though he did manage to stay in contact with me from time to time) didn't look like he was going to post anytime soon. So the choice was: Allow GB to continue with three consecutive rounds of default-eliminations (each round moving at an ever slower pace as interest continued to wane), have a multikill which would thrust us into round 5 (there was precedent for this), or to give completely new characters and authors who didn't have to work through the first 2 rounds a chance at winning the Grand Battle. The first choice was terrible. The second had potential but would drastically shorten the battle as a whole. So I opted for the third.

I sent out a message informing the contestants of my choice and gave them a chance to voice their concerns. I only heard back from Hijack, who then missed a final deadline and was then officially removed from the battle (he's still cool though, and welcome to help out in a less Apathyetic fashion if he would like to). After that it was just a matter of recruiting Niall (who had missed out on WR signups but had shown a lot of promise in other GB-like things and a CRAZY DEVOTION to finish what he starts in the survivor game), and seeing if DF would like to turn his temp spot into a full-time post.

So, once again we have 5 contestants all who are vying for the spot of NOT LAST PLACE. I'm still going to judge this round with an emphasis on improvement - so the two that have just joined us are at a slight disadvantage in that regard, but I'll try and take everything into consideration. I've been hoping for an average of a post per week in this battle. With five active players though, I think two or three is very possible. (of course I realize school is starting up and all that so I'm not too picky).

Now the posting rate will determine something pretty critical: when the round ends. I don't want this round to extend into October, so September 30th is the last-minute-deadline. However, the faster the pace here the sooner we'll move onto the next round. If you 5 are ready to see where this thing will go next, keep working on the story here! Maybe we'll see round 4 in a couple of weeks!


Edit:Edit:

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SpoilerAnd for anyone wanting to initiate a timeline jump. let it be known that Parset is unique to this timeline only. This meta-plot-point may be circumvented only by EXPLAINING IT TO ME IN ADVANCE. Because time makes my brain hurt.

Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

---

Parset lay down again and feebly pulled his hat over his head. He hated to wake up from a hangover. Hangovers meant hoping he woke up in a field filled with soft grasses and sweet smelling honeysuckles on the side of the road, away from civilisation because heavens help him if he woke up in the middle of a tavern with a tab still to pay. Hangovers meant going through half his supply of gathered food to quell the beast that would awaken in his stomach every time he partook in the devil's water. Hangovers meant being incapacitated for a good half of a day, so no travel, no work, no way of nimbly, secretly slipping out the back entrance without upsetting his stomach enough that he'll draw the attention of an entire household with a single retch. Despite their lack of voice boxes, Minnish Gnomes were regarded by far as the louder drunkards of the two species, especially if they had upset stomachs.

He had, in fact, woken up in a field, last he could remember. Blissfully happy to lay between the sunflowers and the poppies and soak in the rays of morning sun filtering in through the foliage, Parset had been passing the time by playing a game he invented called "Get Back On That Leaf" with a passerby ant. Parset would pick up the ant, place it on the lowest leaf of the nearest sunflower plant and count to 60 as he watched the ant struggle to climb down the stem of the plant. After the ant's time limit had expired, Parset would pick the ant up again and place it back onto the same leaf. Like this, the game had continued for hours throughout the morning, Parset nursing his head on his hand and the ant getting a good workout.

But just as he was coming down from the worst of it, he'd been pulled out of his sunny reverie and plunged into this cold corridor, like a sword in the blacksmith's being quenched in a barrel of water. He could nearly feel the steam rising off his forehead. Bringing his focus back to the present, he found it wasn't steam that was tickling his forehead, but something else entirely. Removing his hat off of his face, eyes squinting to readjust to the light, he felt a light sensation move across his face. Carefully brushing his finger across his cheek to pick up the foreign object, Parset examined his finger carefully to find that he had a travel companion with him. Somehow, the ant had stowed away inside his top hat during his examination of the slip of paper around his key and had only just emerged out of the hat band onto his face now. Looking directly into the ants eyes, Parset could swear the ant looked as disoriented as he was. He regarded his miniscule stowaway for a second then grinned a yellow-toothed grin.

"Might as well come along for the ride. Like you have a choice," he thought to himself. "I'll call you Minute."

He put his finger on the top of his hat and waited until Minute decided it was safe enough to walk onto, then sat up and put his hat back on his head, Minute riding on top. Struggling to his feet, Parset was suddenly struck by a dangerous thought. He knew he’d foolishly ignored his surroundings too long already but if what he’d hypothesised was true then his surroundings could wait a few seconds longer. He reached into his shirt to retrieve his key once again, but this time it wasn’t the key that interested the Gnome. It was the paper tied around it.

You've been entered into a contest.

Try and stay alive.

It was innocuous at best. Completely inoffensive. It stated facts simply and without adornment. For anyone else, this paper would appear to serve only the purpose of stating its simple, cryptic message. For Parset and Parset alone, it was a greeting card, he was sure. Parset held the card to his large nostrils and inhaled deeply.

Sandalwood.

He turned the card over and inhaled again.

Peppermint.

Now he was certain. There was ever only one moment in his life hallmarked by those two scents, but the moment had stuck in his mind forever. His hand clutched tightly onto the key as he slipped it beneath his shirt once more. This sudden turn of events, coupled with that card, those scents, told Parset that he was here by no mean coincidence and that the events that would now unfold were penultimate to the event Parset had prepared himself for since he first inhaled those two scents in unison. Now more than ever he was close to his goal. He would find this key its home.

Picking up his swag, he slipped one drumstick out of the knot that attached the bundle of items to the remaining stick. He couldn’t do much with a single drumstick, but a simple spell would suffice for navigation for now. He turned on his heels and, after briefly surveying the choice of paths, set off towards the end of the corridor that appeared better illuminated and more open, hoping to come across a major junction so that he could gain his bearings. In his right hand he rested his swag on his shoulder. In his left, he trailed his other drumstick, beating out a playful rhythm in time with his steps. Wherever the drumstick made contact with the ground, bright yellow dots appeared on the cold rock, illuminating the floor like phosphorescent insects. Parset could use this trail of dots to keep track of where he had been. Had he known more about this contest, perhaps he would have taken more caution. Leaving a marked trail behind you means you can be followed. Followed, tracked and found.

~ ~ ~

Minute didn't know where she was or why everything was much colder than it was moments earlier, but right at that moment she was loving her life. Riding on she-didn't-know-what, wind racing through her antennae, she was living in the moment and loving every moment of it.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE!!!!!!" her tiny voice cried.

Ants are simple creatures.

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SpoilerThanks for having me. It's a pleasure to be here.

I have some ideas as to how I'd like to contribute to the meta-plot but if anyone has some pre-planned ideas as to how they want it to go then let me know. I don't want to tread on any toes here. I'll be writing some meta-plot pretty soon though, just to let you know.

Originally posted on MSPA by PlumFinder.

---

Loran knelt by the pair of rectangular glasses.
'This is not Apathy.'
'The glasses are hers,' OTTO observed.
'I don't want her glasses,' Loran said angrily. He picked up the glasses and examined them for a moment, before throwing them against the wall, where they shattered. 'You two told me Apathy was here.'
'A minute ago,' Greyve corrected him, though he sounded unsure of himself now. 'She was here a minute ago.'
'Now she is gone,' OTTO added.
'Gone where?' Loran snarled at the two of them. He had hoped, for a short moment, that they might actually be good for something.
'Unknown,' OTTO stated.
'She's gone.' Greyve said. He was looking round the corridor with a puzzled expression on his face.
'Right, whatever,' Loran said. He disappointedly sheathed his knives. 'I don't want to hear a word from you two anymore. You've had your chance.'
There was a trail of fluorescent yellow dots on the floor, starting near the place Loran had found Apathy's glasses. He was of half a mind to follow it. There was high likelihood of it being a trap of some kind, but on the other hand, it might be something Apathy was doing, walking around confused and with her mind muddled. Perhaps she was even bleeding. For all he knew her blood was yellow.
'It's not Apathy,' Greyve said, studying the trail with growing bewilderment. 'I told you, she's gone.'
'And I'm telling you that she's probably gone in that direction!' Loran said. He was clutching the hilt of a dagger, even though it would be of no use. He could hardly kill Greyve.
'Why thank you!' Greyve said, shooting him a mocking smile.
'Because you are already dead, asshole. I would gladly kill you otherwise.'
'I'm not sorry for you,' Greyve muttered, returning to examining the trail. 'Anyway, Apathy hasn't gone in the direction of the trail. I would know if she had.'
He followed the trail around a corner.
'Stay here!' Loran shouted at him. 'You just said -!'
'I know what I said!' Greyve yelled back. 'I don't know where she is, but I know where she isn't!'
'What Greyve is trying to say,' OTTO explained calmly, 'is that Apathy appears to be no longer in this complex. For a few minutes following the incident, we both experienced a certain connection with her, best described as a mental link. I was aware of her running down this corridor, and of the fear she felt. As you were making your way here, Apathy disappeared.'
'The connection broke?' Loran suggested mockingly. 'She found a way to get you out of her head?'
'Possibly.' OTTO admitted. 'The glasses we found suggest otherwise.'
Loran nodded, looking at the trail. Perhaps she was unconsious. Someone could have ambushed her and dragged her somewhere else. In that case the trail really could be her blood. Except if it was blood, Apathy had the most rythmic wound he had ever seen. The dots were evenly spaced, and all perfectly round, and very much gave the impression of a deliberate addition to the corridor.
'I agree,' Greyve said, returning to Loran's side. 'Apathy's gone further away than a few corridors.'
'Alright,' Loran said. 'Does the trail go on far past the corner?'
'Dunno,' Greyve shrugged. 'I don't actually have eyes. I only see what you see.'
'Then why the hell did you follow the trail?'
'To annoy you,' Greyve chuckled. 'Worked, didn't it?'
Loran aimed a kick at him. His foot went right through the hallucination.
Greyve chuckled again, and Loran stepped close to him.
'No more jokes, or I swear to God, I will find a way to kill you again. If I have to make peace with Voitrach by ceremonically swearing an oath of not-killing except for carrots and have him scorch the precise part of my brain that is you out of my head with a rusted pickaxe, I will fucking do it!'
He wasn't sure if it was the threat or something his mind did unconsiously, but Greyve's smile vanished and he stepped away from Loran, a little paler than before. Loran nodded, and went to look around the corner.
The trail continued there, going on for several hundred feet before taking another turn to the left. It made a short detour towards a large door halfway down the corridor, but didn't appear to go inside. Whoever had made it didn't appear to have a clear destination in mind. Which left the question: Follow it, or not?
Loran could hear Greyve and OTTO softly talking to each other behind him. That was another question he'd have to think about. They seemed so much more real than any of the other hallucinations he'd ever had. Mostly, those had been manifestations of his fear or worries, one-dimensional caricatures of people he knew. They had never gone out of their way to make him angry, and had certainly never told him things he didn't know himself.
He thought he knew what was going on though. The mindlink they had with Apathy was a big clue. It seemed they were not just build from Loran's own memories, but also from Apathy's. There had been a direct connection between their minds, after all, however short. The double input of information, combined with the increased effort his mind was putting in the hallucinations, might've made them multi-dimensional.
'I like that,' Greyve said. 'I bet OTTO likes it even more. It's all sciency and stuff.'
'It does appear to be a valid theory,' OTTO agreed.
'Are you going to build a spaceship next?' Greyve asked.
Loran really preferred the one-dimensional ones.
'There is one flaw, however,' OTTO added, after a short pause.
'I can't believe you are disagreeing with me,' Loran said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. 'What flaw?'
Greyve grinned at him, and pointed to the ceiling.
'Felix is up there, about three stories higher. Will feels near him, but he's hard to pinpoint for some reason. Anneliese is completely of the map, except for a vague sense of being somewhere. Voitrach is even further away, and keeps fading in and out, like he's constantly falling asleep.'
'Correct,' OTTO said. 'None of them is remotely in the direction of the trail.'
Loran looked from one to the other, unsure if they were mocking him again.
'Go and look,' Greyve said. 'You will find them where we say they are. Explain that, science boy.'

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SpoilerA post by Plumfinder? How is this even possible!!1???

One of the drawbacks of having a compulsive killer as a character, is that it's difficult to have him interact with the other contestants. He'd constantly be trying to kill them, after all. I gave him Greyve and OTTO partly because I was getting tired of writing nothing but Loran's thoughts. there is another reason, which you will probably never
see, since it'd ask for Loran to survive a few more rounds.

I hope I didn't do anything problematic by making the trail lead away from the others. I guess Parset could always just take a few corners further down the line, right? Oh,and in case it wasn't clear, Parset made a detour to the large detour because there's a keyhole in it.

Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.

---

As Annaliese stepped out of the room, it started to lose even more definition, and Will 18 decided he should probably be somewhere else. He didn't know what would happen if the room shut down with him still in it, but it probably wouldn't be good. With a regretful glance out the door at the him from one timeline over, he transferred himself back into the computer system he'd come from.

When the file transfer finished, he found a little flashing warning greeting him. "Inconsistency detected," it said, followed by a link to a log file with more information.

> # inconalert.log
> # Format: timestamp location : class : description
> 1316925051 hall424 : Mass disparity : uninvestigated
> 1316923249 multiple : Mass disparities : appearance of unknown beings
> 1316541908 stor44 : Recording disruption : faulty wiring disabled stor44 camera, resolved
> 1316320221 external : Mass disparity : appearance of silver sphere; taken to stor113 for storage and testing
> 1316194442 stor44 : Recording disruption : faulty wiring disabled stor44 camera, resolved
> 1316102082 stor44 : Recording disruption : faulty wiring disabled stor44 camera, resolved
> 1316007693 stor44 : Recording disruption : faulty wiring disabled stor44 camera, resolved

The file continued on in a similar vein as far as Will cared to read, and he turned his attention back to the entries near the top. A "mass disparity," he guessed, meant that there'd been a change in the mass present at whatever location; given the timing of things, he could only assume the second entry referred to the arrival of the contestants.

The logical thing to do was to check the security logs for hall424 at around that timestamp, Will decided. He did a bit of navigating around, found where the camera footage was stored... and saw nothing but blackness. It had been wiped, he assumed, and closed out.

With nothing better to do, he turned his attention to the fourth entry, the one that mentioned a "silver sphere." It didn't take him long to call up the camera feed from stor113.

The silver sphere was there, surrounded by wires and electronic prodding implements. (Idly, Will 18 wondered what had put it there. Automated maintenance units, perhaps?)

With a bit of effort, Will found that he could move the instruments surrounding the sphere, and with a bit of poking at it, he found something interesting; there was a handprint on the thing. A human handprint, or at least something similar. That intrigued him; this planet was occupied by insectoid beings, after all. How could they make something that looked so much like a human hand?

Even more interesting, it seemed that the handprint had some sensors embedded in it. Maybe, Will reasoned, they could be used to access whatever was inside.

Interface attempted. Analyzing brain patterns... Human. Enabling...

Suddenly, there was a figure standing in the room. A projection, Will somehow knew, but a human one.

"Greetings," the figure said. "If you have recovered this orb, then you are in grave danger..."

The message went on about organizing against the Grandmasters and whatnot, but the moment the part about communicating with any other orb came up, Will's attention vanished. He didn't particularly care about stopping the Grandmasters at that particular moment, truth be told. He just wanted to survive, and he'd just been handed the opportunity.

He could escape this computer system, using the orb to transfer himself anywhere but here. Even if the transfer failed, all that would happen is he would simply cease to exist. Not the most comforting thought, certainly, but still a far better fate than slowly degrading into insanity where he was.

He didn't hesitate. The moment he was satisfied the computer he was in could handle transferring him, he started the process.

A progress bar came up on the screen in storage room 113, and when it reached the end, there was just one Will present in the complex.

-

As Will 19 attempted to figure out what had happened to Annaliese (he figured it was safe to assume she wasn't also jumping timelines, so the explanation was likely something a bit less familiar to him), she looked around at the little group gathered outside the door.

"More archaeologists, I assume?" There was a fair note of irony in her voice, but it vanished as her face lit up in genuine happiness, spying the Sollipor. "Quostus! Oh, it's so good t-"

"Gias is here," the small figure interrupted, cutting to the chase despite his relief that his queen had found someone suitable to use. "We need to deal with him before anything else."

-

In a universe far removed, a young man stared at the face that showed up on the screen of the device powered by the overflow from the generator in his heart.

"Wait, you can't be serious. Will freaking Haven?"

Originally posted on MSPA by Nehh.

---

Voitrach had been seated at the throne for some time now. The place was old, disused - the air dense and chaotic, as if filled with dust. The whole place groaned slowly and gently every now and then, also, and Voitrach was curious to what caused this. If he looked hard enough, he could actually see the entire corridor wavering slightly. Faking a sigh, he gave in to his curiosity and sensed what was outside. For a start, there was air out there - even worse than the air where he was, it seemed, as he could feel it was mostly particles. His mental eye came to some kind of heavy, metal strut, and he followed it to another corridor. The design of the area seemed to go beyond architectural sense - each part of the building seemed to have been suspended in empty space, with only these girders holding it there.

A thought came to him. If the whole place was swaying... A quick check validated him. The closest support to him was at the doors, near where he had woken up. The whole place was unstable. No wonder it hadn't been used. Voitrach stood up, and then cursed to himself as rock groaned and squealed under him, swaying. With the greatest caution he seated himself, trying not to disturb the delicate balance that kept him there. He sat back and tried to think.

His memory pounced on him, a raging torrent of thought rushing over him. His life so far sped past in a blur, the stars flickering in the background, a hundred years here or there passed in an instant. It hardly paused while he watched nebulae move, starships shuttle to and fro, the constructions of those first colonies by all the species common today. He was in a black void, a stone room, an ocean, a boat, a passage lined with jars, his own head -

Just as he realised what was happening a massive impact brought him to his senses. The darkness was blinding - for a split second, he forgot where he was. The falling debris, the steel he lay on and the crushed glass and water in his hand reminded him. Finding his feet, he stood, examining the large chip broken from his stone torso. This beam was sturdier, spanning two large masses of masonry that seemed stable enough where they stood. Pausing, he could pick up the vibrations of footsteps from one of them. Maybe Will was there, or somebody else he could trust. Or - he considered Gias, Loran, Felix - someone he would rather avoid. He didn't really have much choice. With a sudden effort, he broke down the wall.

Nobody was there, Just a trail of glowing dots. It was a start, at least...

Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

---

Parset had been walking for over an hour with no fruition to his wanderings. He'd been travelling in all directions, through rooms filled with paperwork, well-crafted chairs and bizzare metallic devices. Everything he came across seemed foriegn to him, as if whoever had built this structure had more people to work for him than there were stars in the sky. Great sheets of metal were attached to the walls, as flat and smooth as the surface of a sheltered lake. The chairs had metal legs; tubes bent into such a fashion that even the most handy smith would have spent half a day on one chair alone. And there were hundreds of chairs! And on top of that, the chairs' backs were made out of a material Parset had never encountered before. It was solid and hardy and by all accounts it should have been ridgid yet when Parset climbed up onto one the material bent slightly beneath his small weight. It was wafer thin too! Even the source of light was a wonder to behold. Great bars seemingly attached to the ceiling, glowing a ghostly white glow. Parset had seen neither the likes of plastic nor electricity before, so everything in this complex had something to offer his curiosity. There were switches on the walls, too high to reach on his stubby legs alone, that could control the lights on the ceiling. The first time he impressed one of those switches he was so startled he fell off the chair he was standing on. But for three more rooms he went back, double checking that every switch did the same thing.

Despite the great advances and obvious organised placement of these facilities and objects, he saw no-one, heard no-one, found nothing of use. No keyhole fit his key. Besides, most keyholes did not require a key as nearly all doors were unlocked and all cupboards had no secrets to protect. Parset found it strange that such a seemingly important building was dead empty. It was clear that, at some point, there had been a large amount of people doing... something in this place. Perhaps he had fallen asleep again and now it was night. Maybe once the sun had risen, the humans would return to whatever this place was. Perhaps it would be best if Parset quickened his search before whoever it was that owned this building returned.

Parset rounded another corner and found himself at the intersection of two corridors. At the roof of the intersection an inverted, polished, metal hemisphere hang from the ceiling, its purpose to allow anyone in its view to see down the two corridors on their left and right. Parset walked beneath the dome and saw himself in its reflection, then he saw something that made him mentally curse himself. Beneath his feet, there were small, yellow dots, dots that he had made earlier on. This was infuriating! He'd been playing the fool, walking around in circles and finding nothing. He might as well just sit down here and wait for the humans to return so they could kick him outside because at this rate it was exactly where he was going to end up.

Some movement down a corridor to his left caught his eye. A shadowy figure had appeared at the end of the corner and was making its way towards him. There was something very off about his general shape. Too bumpy, too uneven. The shape paused for a second, lifted its hand and made writing movements in the sky. Dust that had settled on the ground floated up from its resting place and formed into letters in front of the figure.

"WHO GOES THERE?"

Parset froze, brain racing. He'd been caught in this place unawares and was probably in deep trouble. In lieu of a better plan, he opted to do what he always did when he was caught somewhere he shouldn't be; he pretended to be drunk.

---

Loran heard footsteps coming from around the corner of the corridor the trail had led him to. Remaining as silent as his training had allowed him, he peered around the corner, keeping careful to remain concealed stealthily in the shadows. The sight that greeted his eyes was that of a midget wearing a top hat, carrying a swag, waving his arms about and stumbling to and fro, making vague guestures towards something down the corridor to the left. Whoever, or whatever, it was appeared to be intoxicated, but if this was a trap then it could be just a clever act.

A grinning face appeared at his shoulder. Greyve bared his teeth in a smug display of self-satisfaction.

"Told you so."

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SpoilerThought I'd find a reason to bring us all together.

OK, so Loran's been tracking Parset's newer trail and Voitrach's pretty much started from the beginning, so Parset found his old trail as Loran caught up to him and Voitrach reached this part of the old trail. Any questions? Also, they should be able to see each other using that metal hemisphere (you see them in hospitals. They're used to make sure nobody bumps into each other at blind corners and intersections) but remember that Loran might be hallucinating.

In case anyone's wondering, Parset's homeworld is pre-renaissance so you can imagine that anything built in a post-inductrial style (sheet metal, plastic, etc.) would seem foreign to him.

Originally posted on MSPA by PlumFinder.

---

[color=#400080]'Get the grin of your face, idiot!' Loran hissed. 'What do you mean you told me so? You would lead me to Felix.'
'Never promised that,' Greyve said smoothly. 'Not in so much words.'
'We feared you might attempt to murder Felix,' OTTO explained. 'That is what you do, is it not? Instead, we led you to Voitrach.'
'Because you're scared out of your pants of him,' Greyve added.
'I am not-!' Loran snarled, before catching himself. He looked at the dwarf, but it was still walking unsteady circles.
'I'm not afraid of Voitrach,' Loran continued in a low voice. 'I was not going to kill Felix either, we've got a truce. And for your information, Voitrach is not a dwarf in a tophat.'
'Don't mind the dwarf,' Greyve said, waving a dismissing hand in its direction. 'It's probably just an hallucination. Look there.'
Loran looked where Greyve pointed: The shining metal hemisphere at the ceiling. The large stone mass was easy to make out in it.
'Oh. Fuck.'
Perhas he was just a little bit afraid of Voitrach.

Voitrach examined the small humano

Originally posted on MSPA by Nehh.

---

Voitrach considered. He could imagine Gias killing Apathy - if he was involved in setting up a gruesome contest like this, he would probably need to have that sort of tendency - but on the other hand, the round hadn't ended yet. Apathy must be alive. One other thing gave him cause for thought, however. With a twirl of the dust he formed another reply.
'WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?'
'What do you mean by that?' Loran answered. He knew what the question meant already, but the move bought him some more time to think.
'WHY DID YOU TELL ME APATHY HAD DIED?'
'You need a reason to side with us. Against Gias. If he's picking us off one by one, and he's right here, then we have an opportunity. If the organizer is dead, perhaps we could escape. We need to fight him.'
Voitrach paused for a moment. This seemed like the truth, but he didn't have anything to judge it by. On the other hand, if Loran was lying and was sided with Gias after all... He decided it could be a trap. Maybe Loran would be less willing to try anything funny if there were more people watching him. There was somebody in particular Voitrach had in mind.
'I SUGGEST WE FIND WILL. GET MORE HELP.'
Loran was willing to do that. If OTTO and O'rylath could be trusted, he knew exactly where Will was. And the other contestants, too, come to think of it. He mentally questioned them, still wary of what they said.
'I think he is this way,' he detailed.

Parset decided that that hadn't gone too badly. He had stumbled after the stone guy and the knife guy for a little way before they noticed him again. Now Voitrach was carrying him. It didn't seem too uncomfortable, for a rock. Feeling a peculiar itch on the back of his neck, he retrieved Minute from where he had crawled and placed him back on his hat. If what he had thought was true, then these people could make quite powerful allies. Assuming he ever got the chance to stop feigning drunkenness, that is. Normally he just waited until people left him alone before snapping out of it. Sadly, that probably wouldn't happen.

Originally posted on MSPA by PlumFinder.

---

'We have no weapons,' the queen explained to Will and Felix. 'I may have questioned the intelligence and sanity of the Balancers at one point, but will admit they are not entirely stupid. When they took Vorlon, they made sure to strip it bare of any weaponry they could find. Which was everything, or close enough to it not to make a difference.'
It felt odd, hearing Anneliese using such a commanding voice, Felix thought. Not considering for an instant that she might not be obeyed. Of course, the person speaking wasn't actually Anneliese, but the body was, and he still associated it with the scared and uncertain voice of the witch.
'So,' the queen continued, 'we will need to be creative.'
She held up a pendant for both of them to see. It didn't look like anything but a small multifaceted gemstone on a string.
'This is a Teaching Stone,' she said. 'It is one of our most valuable tools of education, as it allows a person to relive a certain section of their memory hundreds of times in very little time. Spent half an hour with an active Teaching Stone, and you could recount the contents of a book word for word.'
'How -?' Will began, but the queen cut him off.
'Silence! I am not done yet!'
She laid the stone in the palm of her hand and started tapping the different facets. Then she scowled, and started over. She tried three times, and then flung the stone angrily at Quostus.
'You do it! This damned body is completely useless at complex tasks!'
The Solipor caught the stone and started turning it over and over in its many limbs, occasionally tapping a side. The queen watched him sourly.

Despite her problems with Anneliese's body, Felix had to admit the queen was quite competent. Barely ten minutes ago she had stepped outside her prison, and had deftly taken charge. Brushing aside Will's hurriedly made up excuse of indeed being archeologists, instead listening to the Solipor as he told her Felix's story, she had introduced herself to them as the queen of Vorlon, and the only one who knew how to kill Gias. Felix had doubted she was the only one, but the way she purposefully strode away made him certain she did know a way.

'This should do,' Quostus said, handing the pendant back to the queen.
'Perfect,' she said. She stroked Quostus head with a finger (a sign of fondness, Felix understood) and smiled. 'Thank you, Solipor.'
'Now,' she said, turning back to Felix and Will, her smile making place for a slightly condescending look. 'When a person activates this device, he or she will be put in a state of unconsiousness while the memory is repeated in their head at a rate of once every retten... Twenty times a minute, for you. Usually it has several failsafes, so the user can not get stuck in its own memory, and so it won't activate without conscious permission, but I have had those removed of this particular Stone. The next individual to touch the stone will instantly be drawn inside its own memories, leaving them vulnurable for all to kill.'
She looked at them with eyebrows raised, as if expecting a response. Felix looked uncertainly at Will. Did she want them to try it out or something?
Quostus got the message and clicked his mandibles in an appreciative way. The queen smiled at him again.
'A mindblowing plan, your highness,' the Solipor gushed. 'I'm glad to see your imprisonment did not dull your ever sharp mind.'
'Thank you, dear Solipor,' the queen said, going as far as using two fingers to stroke him. She shot an icy glare at Felix and Will. 'Don't you agree?'
'Well, I can't click my mandibles, so does a round of human applause suffice?' Felix asked, slowly clapping his hands.
'It doesn't sound like a very good plan,' Will said bluntly. The queen narrowed her eyes at him and attempted to straighten her neck, before remembering she was in a human body.
'Gias will be on his guard. He won't just let us walk up to him and touch him,' Will said. 'So unless you want to outright attack him, a tactic, I might point out, we're trying to specifically avoid, I don't see how we could ever get close enough to activate that thing.'
'Don't speak to me like that!' the queen snapped.
'Why not?' Will asked. 'I'm not your subject, and I never agreed to let you be in charge. I am only here because I wanted to hear your plan and because I don't want you to get Anneliese killed by doing something stupid.'
The queen looked like she was about to explode at the arrogance of those she'd labeled minions, so Felix hurriedly stepped in.
'Alright Will, we got it. Your highness, Will has always been a very stubborn man. I am certain he will come around in due time. He already agreed to stay near you, so that's a start, right?'
The queen glared at Will and then nodded. Will just shrugged.
'You are with me, then?' she asked Felix.
'I am,' Felix said. The plan might not be completely solid, but if it worked out, he might be free from this contest and in the favor of a powerful queen.
'Good,' the queen said, holding the pendant out to him. 'Then you can execute the plan.'
Ah, now this was unexpected.

Voitrach watched as Loran hesitated at an intersection, and then went into a completely different direction from the one they'd been going before, muttering to himself. This was the third time he did that.
The dwarf on his shoulder was rhythmically tapping his head. Apeart from that, the dwarf seemed to be getting more and more sober with the minute. It wasn't swaying anymore. Voitrach had always thought drunkenness lasted longer, but perhaps he remembered incorrectly. He hadn't seen it happen all that often, if truth be told.
Several meters in front of him, Loran swatted the air and looked at the ceiling.
'They're nearby,' he said. 'I... I have used my tracking skills. I learned them during my training.'
'I SEE,' Voitrach formed, wondering how Loran could so casually talk about becoming an assassin.
'You know, touching walls and feeling tremors and stuff,' Loran continued. 'It works really... quite well. Nothing special.'

Anneliese had curled up in a dark part of her own head, trying to shut out the thoughts of the queen. They all felt so vile, filled with hate and anger. But it was an impossible task. Everything the queen felt and thought resounded in her head like a hundred pounding drums. There was no silencing it.
'There we are,' the queen said, Anneliese's mouth forming the words against her will. Anneliese cringed.
'Are you certain?' Felix asked, looking at the double doors they were standing in front of. Anneliese tried to move her mouth, tried to yell at Felix to help her. The queen's attention was briefly drawn towards her, and Anneliese withdrew even further, shrieking in revulsion and fear.
'Yes,' the queen said to Felix. 'It is the main control room. I've though against Gias for a long time. I know how his mind works. If he chose to remain here, as you say, he will have looked for the place where he could see all. He wouldn't be able to stand not knowing.'
'But if he can see us...' Felix said.
'He can't,' the queen said, and for the first time she smiled at Felix. 'I took a look at the system before we got here, and it has gone into emergency shutdown when an alien program interacted with an outside force. It will take a while before it's done rebooting. At best, Gias saw me wake up.'
'Alright,' Felix said, visibly steeling himself. 'Let's go. I hope you realize what a huge favor I'm doing you here.'
'Don't worry, mr. Atrum,' the queen said. 'I will remember.'
Felix walked towards the doors, and pushed them open. Anneliese desperately tried to call out to him, to make him stay. In response, the queen pushed hard against Anneliese's mind, for a moment on the brink of completely destroying her. Anneliese screamed, and went back to hiding in the dark.

Loran slowly and softly lowered the door handle, and pulled the door ajar. A single glance through the gap told him all he needed to know.
'Alright,' Loran said. 'Here we are.'
He turned to Voitrach, who lumbered forward to take a look.
'Stay hidden!' Loran hissed as Voitrach bowed over to watch.
'I AM HIDDEN,' Voitrach formed, and Loran snorted in disdain.
'No, you're not. You're a big lump of rock and you can't hide. Just stay silent, at least.'
The dwarf crawled down and tried to insert a key in the doorlock. Loran swatted him away and looked through the gap again.
On the other side of the door was a relatively small room, compared to the huge hallways this complex usually had. Inside, a stone-like creature, its entire body pulsing with an odd, orange light, was standing in front of a number of monitoring screens, trying and failing to get them working again. All they displayed were a number of unrecognisable markings, probably an error message of some sort.
'YOU BROKE YOUR WORD.'
Loran flinched as the words suddenly appeared before his face, and turned to look at Voitrach. The rock-creature was no longer looking through the crack, instead towering over Loran in a particularly threatening way.
'I didn't, I didn't!' Loran hurriedly said. 'Gias just happens to be here! The others are here too, I swear!'
'Felix Atrum just stepped into the room,' OTTO informed him. Loran gestured to the gap.
'Look! Felix is there! Go on, look again!'
For a moment, Voitrach didn't move. Then he slowly turned back to the door, peering inside. He abruptly stopped moving. Loran exhaled in relief. He didn't know why Felix would want to enter a room with Gias in it, but it certainly helped him out. If he was lucky, Voitrach would even see Gias kill Felix. If that wouldn't convince him, nothing would.
'What is it?' the dwarf asked, scrambling off Voitrach's shoulder to get a look as well. 'Who is that?'
Loran maneuvered himself beneath Voitrach's mass to see as well.
Felix was standing in front of Gias, who had stopped working on the monitors, and was instead listening to Felix.
'... and lots of limbs,' the self-proclaimed villain said. 'I thought it was just a predator, but then it spoke. Not a language I understood, but I think it may be -'
Gias cut him off.
'I take no interest in this matter. Get back to your fight. Don't try to get into my good books again.'
'Oh,' Felix said, looking at the floor dejectedly. 'I just thought, since it was wearing a crown, it might be import-'
Again Gias cut him off, this time with a completely different tone of voice.
'A crown? Describe it!'
'Well, it was round,' Felix began, wringing his hands and shooting nervous glances around him.
Something was wrong with that, Loran thought. Last time they'd spoken, Felix had been dangerously confident. What had happened to him to make him so submissive?
'GIAS ISN'T KILLING HIM,' Voitrach formed.
'I hadn't noticed,' Loran said. 'He will. Don't worry.'
'Actually,' OTTO said. 'We have no definite evidence of that. We cannot even be certain Apathy was his victim, rather than someone else's. Gias may have been sincere in his statement that he would only observe.'
'Shut up,' Loran said.
'I WILL NOT,' Voitrach formed. 'I WILL GO TALK TO HIM.'
'You... What?'
'ATRUM IS SPEAKING WITH GIAS AS WELL,' Voitrach formed. 'I WILL ASK ABOUT APATHY.'
'But, no, he killed Apathy! He will not just let you ask about her in front of Felix! He will attack.'
'I AM NOT CONVINCED OF THAT. THIS IS A TRICK OF YOURS TO GET ME KILLED. GIAS WILL CONFIRM THAT,' Voitrach formed. Loran burried his head in his hands, trying desperately to think of something to say. If Voitrach got himself killed this way, they'd never be rid of Gias.
'Ouch, sucks to be you,' Greyve said smirking.
Loran was about to voice an angry retaliation, when a hand of stones closed around his collar, and Voitrach hoisted him effortlessly into the air.
'YOU WILL COME TOO.'

'You were right to tell me, but you will not be rewarded,' Gias told Felix.
Felix pretended to be sorry about that. He held up the pendant and continued with his best scared voice.
'I... I managed to take this from it. Her. It may be important.'
Gias held out his hand.
'I will examine it.'
For a short moment, Felix thought it had worked. Just for a moment, it looked like Gias was actually about to touch the pendant. Then a door to the side flew open, and Voitrach stepped in, holding a struggling Loran by the collar of his coat. Words of dust floated in front of him.
'DO NOT WORRY, I ONLY WISH TO TALK.'
Both Gias and Felix turned to see who had entered. Gias immediately turned back to Felix as he saw the side of the villain's face.
'You are a liar, Felix Atrum,' he said, lowering his hand. 'You have spoken with Vorlons.'
Felix hand flew to his ear, where, he realized too late, the translator was still attached.
'I should punish you for this,' Gias said.

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SpoilerWell, that took a while. Perhaps next time I shouldn't reserve unless I'm actually going to write right then.

It looks like Loran isn't really the main POV character in this part. I hope that is allowed, but group FeWill had more to do before reaching Gias than group Voilan. I also hope it's allowed how much I took charge of the story.
Anyway, everyone is there now, and I'll leave it to you to tell me what your characters do next (run, fight, or break down and cry).

Edit: HOLY SHIT, this thing is long!

Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

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SpoilerSorry to say PlumFinder, but if it wasn't clear in my character profile, Parset is mute. He can't speak. Luckily it will only take minor editing to change your post.

Yeah, in case it wasn't clear, Parset has no vocal chords. He does have certain ways to communicate with others (musical magic!) but he can't speak.