An Age of Mysterious Memories

From what it sounds like, Nala and Littlebit are attempting to work at drawing energies from a parallel ethereal realm across some sort of circuitry, likely in the hopes of stabilizing that energy within the shape of a doorway, or similar portal structure. If they’re having trouble because the energy’s presence is ephemeral at best, fleeting as it were, then I’m not one hundred percent certain exactly what I could do about it, but I do see why Nala would assume my powers might aid in maintaining them. Once again I find myself wishing I had access to my full suite of abilities from Can’Z’aas, on-demand, without needing to nearly kill myself in order to activate them.

Last night’s maxed out Space skill attack had my mana residue corruption sickness lacerating me inside and out. It’s a miracle I’m mostly whole again, or was, this morning. I’m pretty beat up at the moment, but nowhere near as bad as I was near the end of my flight from Terrorzin’s forces. I’m not sure if it’s The Stone In Two Parts, Lil, accidentally leaning into my Dragonforce to speed up my healing, my accidental death of my lycanthrope form, or something else entirely, or some combination of all of the above, but I’ve been pretty much physically ready for every combat, no matter how destroyed I end up from the previous one.

Curious what they’d like me to try, I query, “Is this related to the ‘Twixt portal research? These ephemeral ethereal excitements? Erm, excitations. Te, no.”

Teuila capitalizes on my accidental incorrect word choice to waggle her brows and strike a sexy pose. I roll my eyes and my cheeks hurt from fighting my smile. Thankfully Nala stays on task as she offers up, “Perhaps. It’s only theoretical, obviously, as is anything that has never been done before. Having learned about the realm beyond a thin veil, parallel to our own, in which elemental spirits reside, I surmised that perhaps attempting to produce an effect similar to those of certain naturally magic gemstones might result in a measure of success, however moderate, in beginning to come to understand what it takes in order to traverse from one realm to another. With anomalous fluctuations accounted for, those that you’d had to nullify for Miss Bitty’s prior sensory research, I hazard to hypothesize that we may very well be in a region in which the veil between realms is thinnest. The, erm, waves, across signal spectrums that you spoke of, may be emitted by gatherings of elemental spirits beyond this realm’s physiplanar reach.”

Puffing a breath, I’m pretty sure everyone except Littlebit’s, Nala’s, and my, eyes glazed over as Nala rattled off her hypothesis. A fear creeps up on me, scaling my back and wiggling its way up and down my spine, sending shivers along with it. I vibrate in intense discomfort as something about this situation strikes a chord. It doesn’t take too long to dawn on me what it is. My near-death experience in The Gap chasm, via the kobolds' stone elemental trap.

Gathering myself, I caution, “Nala, if there’s any chance that an experiment might open the way to the elemental spirit realm, instead of the ‘Twixt, that’s a risk we can’t take. Especially if, as you surmise, there’s a strong gathering of them in the region parallel to our location in their realm.”

Dismayed at my assessment, Nala argues, “While there’s most certainly a chance, in fact, a high chance, due to the nature of the excitations, surely mindless spirits pose no threat while you and your very own lightning spirit swarm are in attendance.”

Grimacing, I respond, “About that, the lightning swarm is gone, I think it saved my life by somehow piloting Big O’Kuel either from my inventory, or once the robot dropped out of it. Also, spirits aren’t mindless. They’re sapient, just in a manner that is alien to our understanding. Y’know? Phooph. Not to mention they’re mana-hungry, and eager to enter this realm seeking it out, plenty willing to injure anything in their way of traveling about procuring more mana.”

Pausing a moment, a thought strikes me, so I conjecture, “Well, there’s another option for the overwhelming signals. Is there any chance that, that maybe, just maybe, they might be from, well,” I glance at Teuila who catches on immediately, her eyes sparkling and wet with the realization before I finish asking, “from our home, Can’Z’aas, due to our whole chicanery and shenanigans down here in Verdimenn to abuse the magic of our world, bringing it here?”

Before too long though, I shoot down my own hope by surmising, “Actually, I guess the signals wouldn’t be from our world, rather than just the structures and equipment we brought from it. I know they pump out a radial aura of Can’Z’aasian digital nature all on their own, no link to Can’Z’aas itself required.”

Slumping dejectedly, Teuila pouts. I can’t blame her for looking upset, especially since I’m the one that accidentally got her—and my—hopes up, only to immediately dash them. Nala pulls out several instruments that I’m not familiar with, that she may very well have invented while I was out. Gazing at the tool, she fiddles with it, gets up and silently stalks away while staring at and tinkering with the strange gadget. I’d normally call someone out for randomly wandering away in the middle of a discussion, but with Nala, it’s likely pertinent to the topic at hand.

Sighing, my forehead meets my right palm exhaustedly. I stroke both of my temples simultaneously while trying to imagine ways around what may come from Nala’s findings. We could take readings somewhere over in Solace, or move the Can’Z’aasian shop structures and other things into one of our inventories in order to—it’s like claiming a plot of land in a videogame. I raise my head just so I can facepalm with greater force, slapping myself in the forehead. Setting down a construction from Can’Z’aas probably has some sort of “build radius” that gets treated as your own base, or home point of operations. Why do I know these tropes? What does it mean? Stupid broken buggy mysterious memories.

If I’m right, then digital structures from Can’Z’aas are hard-coded to include whatever structured object-oriented module that allows for the claiming upon placement. Or at least the digital shop structures. Maybe those are considered the primary edifice to start a settlement, or home base, or camp, or whatever they might be called within Can’Z’aas’s system settings. It feels like my world is coming apart at the seams, and that I see further and further beyond the veil.

How the hell do we come from a digital world? I once wondered if we were just videogame characters, or AI, or some such. How is Teuila a fully digital being? How am I a partially digital being? Why were there humans that were entirely non-digital beings? Argh! It doesn’t make any sense! Calm down Reggie. These memories have been a mystery for ages, and they can remain so for a while longer. Focus on the thoughts that might advance some of your goals for the war effort, or against the coming apocalypses.

Cracking my neck and rolling my rotator cuffs, I breathe deeply, trying to center and calm myself. Teuila ogles me as I do, causing me to smirk and roll my eyes. I’m glad she sometimes enjoys my appearance as much as I enjoy hers. Anyway, deep breath, and another, and another. Breathe Air, breathe. Phooph. There, calmer. Let’s itemize, organize, and prioritize.

I’m glad to spy Lil, Lucky, Shiz, Zelshiz, and that whole crew nearly here, coming down the tunnel from Solace to Verdimenn. Asking those around me, I glance about, “Can we brainstorm to list out all the goals we’re trying to accomplish, and the obstacles to those goals? Down to the nitty gritty, not something as vague as win the war, obvee. Tactics and maneuvers we need to pull off, assets we need to obtain or create, operations that need to happen, and so on.”

I’m surprised to note that Kinzul and Prinrin are behind Lil, Lucky, Shiz, and the Spellknights. Putting up my telepathic walls, I plead, “Kinzul, I beg your forgiveness. I’m sorry to have defied you, your order, or denied your request. I never intended to hurt you, and I don’t know how to make it up to you without abandoning the war effort to undertake your secret mission.”

The long silence I receive from Kinzul strikes at my heart like icy daggers. But I notice Prinrin making note of Kinzul attempting to compose herself, to hide emotions, as she sometimes does. So the mere mention of this mission, this quest, would visibly disturb Kinzul, and she wants to be able to present her regal poise to those present. What could that even mean? I so badly want to comfort her and soothe her hurt. It feels like there’s something deeper here that I’m not understanding.

After having built her emotional walls, in order to maintain her poise, Kinzul responds, “Fret not my love. My outburst is something I should seek your forgiveness for. I overreacted, when you of course were only making the wise decision for the benefit, the good of the whole Order. I do hope you’ll forgive and forget, until such time as we can afford your undertaking of this crucial task, when your presence is less critical to our immediate successes.”

Scrunching my eyes, holding back tears, I nod wordlessly along our telepathic wavelength. She won’t say it, but it feels like a rift has formed between us. Her words were so cold and calculated. I know she’s not like that. She’s not someone to bury love under resentment from a single disagreement. In my heart, I know that’s not what she’s doing. She’s masking something else. Something so vitally important to her, that it’s injurious to her heart for it to even be temporarily spurned.

I can tell she didn’t even confide in Prinrin the specifics of the matter. Because Prinny is as alert and studious as ever, drinking in every twitch and tell of Kinzul’s features, trying to suss this out as well. I suppose I’ll have to leave that up to her. Prinny’s insightful, empathetic, observant, perceptive, and intuitive. Far more so than me to be honest, for the most part.

Muttering passes down my request for brainstorming our objectives to the new arrivals, so that I don’t need to reiterate my request, thankfully. Lil rushes towards me in our mindscape, and telepathically sends, “Rej, Reggie, pal, guess what! I’ve got my own little army,” causing me to giggle uncontrollably. I was slightly off in the placement of wording, but I pretty much nailed it.

Still, despite his excitement in our mindscape, looking pooped in meatspace, Lil shuffles up to me and flumps down next to me complaining, “Next time Rej pal, you take new recruits to take down three fortresses in a single day. Did you even go anywhere or take down any?”

Lucky trots up to Lil, and lays against him, resting his face across Lil’s haunches. Since people are here, and I wanted to apprise them, I answer loudly enough for everyone to hear, even Nala as she’s returning, “There were no fortresses to take down, or rather, Ixeyla and—“

Lil, looking shocked, grumps, “Say whaaaa? You had Ixey go with you to take down baddies?”

Trying to explain, I correct, “No, no, I mean, yes I took her along for a ride—“ and immediately regret my life choices, and phrasing. Sighing, I wait for the snickering, and brow waggling to die down. I cast my glare about at several of the obvious offenders, and the culprits simply grin my way maliciously. Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I sigh before trying to gather my train of thoughts.

When I’m re-composed, I continue, “We, or I, found the three domains adjacent to Thraxxis’s and his own, to be vacated. No foes to take down, no loot to gather, few clues to even observe. Nearly everything that wasn’t nailed down, and some stuff that was, was taken hastily. What little was left on site was ramshackle, bowled over or broken, leaving everything in disarray.”

Assessing everyone’s moods at the news, I observe their faces and further explain, “I see your hopeful expressions. No, the enemy hasn’t turned tail and fled because of our successes. Terrorzin has somehow managed to muster the majority of his forces, perhaps forty thousand or more all-told, and I’m informed that he somehow still has nearly as many left in reserve, tucked away in the deeper, more fortified domains.”

Sighing and nodding as a clamor goes up amongst our small gathering, I wait for the mutterings and alarm to die down before continuing, “Worse yet, he was nearly at Wistenzlia peak when I ran into his forces. His advance units were close to Vieriss Valley. Someone said that the majority of his forces would take a week to get here from there at maximum forced march, but I’m not putting it past Terrorzin to have something even faster than forced march. That’s why I want to get our goals and operations planned and prioritized, and why I blew the top off of Wistenzlia into Vieriss, to block the path at least momentarily.”

The mood shifts from alarm and panic, to dumbfounded, as the majority of those in attendance don’t—or, didn’t at least—know what I did today. Even Alanea scoots out of Teuila’s embrace to shakily stand and blink wide-eyed at me. Someone asks, “Like, a bit of a rockslide? That’ll take a horde ten seconds to clear up.”

Biting my lips and closing my eyes, not wanting to brag, but also not wanting to provide inaccurate information, I shake my head before answering, “No, not a little rockslide. I blew about a third of the mountain off into the valley. I was a little alarmed when I saw the Worldstorm ascending and stretching upwards, but thankfully its new top remains just within the Worldstorm.”

There’s a round of people comically cleaning their ears and staring wide-eyed at me. I grumble, “My moving a mountain isn’t making a miracle people, I did the first thing I could think of to—“

Bursting into laughter, Shiz interrupts, “First thing ‘ey could think of. Schism here’s first thought isn’t, ‘I should get backup and hold the pass,’ no, it’s ‘I should move a mountain into their path, just because I can.’ Bwahaha.”

A round of nervous chuckling joins in with Shiz’s laughter, which is met with a few lighthearted titters. Kinzul reigns in the crowd, “My love, humble though they may be, is right. I believe they were about to express that their explanation was meant to indicate that their desire to buy time was so that our beloved Order could devise solutions and enact defensive measures, perhaps utilizing Vieriss, once Terrorzin no-doubt clears it to return to the act of sending his fanatics to our doorstep straightaway.”

Nodding to Kinzul, I mouth a silent, “Thank you,” and try to send grateful, loving emotional waves to her over our many telepathic wavelengths. I receive a genuine smile, which warms my heart and sets my eyes to misting. Her regal head-tilt of a nod prompts me, so I quickly inhale a shuddering breath and collect myself once again. My worries about a rift between us are allayed slightly, but they’re still there, gnawing at the back of my mind somewhere.

Stretching myself, and continuing to nod, I dig about for one of our tactical maps of the region and continue, “Precisely. There’s going to be ample opportunities to skirmish with the front of Terrorzin’s horde. For some reason, he personally withdrew after a short bout of chasing me, frosting and shattering a few hundred of his own troops. Kinzul, am I right in that this seemingly passive manifestation of his Dragonforce will be unhindered by any but a more ancient Dragonforce? Is yours the only one in the world as old?”

Offering a lighthearted tease, Kinzul begins, “One does not ask a woman her age my love. But yes, your surmisings are correct. Long has the Ice of Rage plotted to become completely untouchable, by taking out any who might one day rival him. To ensure his own longevity, his machinations ended the lives of anyone his elder. Perhaps the prophecy of his death began long ago, and our interception of it, this year, is simply kismet.”

Grumbling, Vylon asserts, “You’ve only got a few millen—“ he wilts and interrupts himself at Kinzul’s stern gaze before coughing.

Vylon’s eyes seem to flair in the flicker of flames that rise within him. He continues where he left off, altering slightly, as smoke billows out his nostrils, “uh, years on me, my Lady. Leave the Ice of Rage to me, and my sister. No frost has ever cooled, or will ever douse these flames. I’d quell his rage sooner than he could quell my spark.”

With an uncommon edge to her voice, Kinzul responds, “My beloved Rend, you and your sister will *not* approach Terrorzin at the final battle. Do you understand? Schism’s estimations are correct, not even you could resist his bedamnable elder Dragonforce.”

Gazing downwards in shame, Vylon nods his assent and understanding. Somehow, I feel like this isn’t the last we’ve heard on the issue of others wanting to take on Terrorzin instead of, or with Kinzul. From Vylon especially. Regardless, he at least acts mollified for the moment. I’m still not even certain why Terrorzin ended up pulling back after seeking me out for only a few moments. Perhaps he worried that I was the one prophecied to end his life, and decided not to risk trying to end me personally, after my geologic maneuver? Another thing that somehow I doubt is that simple.

Our crowd returns to mulling over my request of figuring out concrete goals to list and prioritize. It feels like we’d done this only a day ago, perhaps two or so, with the Strategists Eight, in order to come up with actionable raids. Now all those plans are thrown out the window, because somehow we missed a massive legion assembling under our noses.

How does our intelligence network keep failing us? I know how talented Errissa is, and she handles most of it herself. I suppose, in the time it takes her to get around, she’s essentially sprinting from location to location, unable to keep up with constant shifts in force numbers and such. She can only be at any one or two fortresses in a given day generally, and there are about eighty to cover. Furrowing my brow, crinkling my nose, and frowning, I feel like I’m missing something yet, something that’ll be obvious later in retrospect.

The assembled’s voices bleed together as my eyes roam, taking in the heavy coils of cables, the metal surfaces, the little trundling clankers and clockwork automatons, and the myriad tools strewn about, either gathered neatly, or laid haphazardly, depending on who last used them I suppose. My eyes drift over Lucky, my son, who whuffs sleepily in response to my thoughts about him, and Lil, whom he’s using as a cushion. Lil’s bright red scales glisten beneath the flickers of various lights, tools, and automatons roaming about, while they display a constant healthy sheen beneath the consistent lighting of the glowlichen.

Apparently during some of the minutes that I was caught in thought, Teuila rushed back to Solace and brought Luni down for our gathering. A now grumbly, grumpy, sleepy Luni. Despite myself, I can’t help smiling as I gaze lovingly at the two. Luni’s fuller curves, deep blue eyes, and that bob-with-bangs haircut that perfectly frames her features are a delight to gaze upon, always. Similarly, Teuila’s brilliant emerald eyes, lithe, toned physique, and her whimsical, wild, long, ruby-red, high-top-fade undercut that remains flopped to one side are equally captivating.

That’s to say nothing of Alanea and Littlebit, and their compact forms, similarly, one curvier than the other, though Littlebit packs plenty of curves of her own for such a short package. They’re both attractive, aesthetically pleasing, easy on weary eyes for sure. Ugh, I sound like a jerk in my own head, describing them like one might a portion of meat wrapped up to go. Sighing, I perform a slow rattle of my skull to reorient myself on the task at hand.

Though she’d been mingling at the back, with other Spellknights, Yui is the first to quip loud enough for everyone to overhear, “We spill blood, lots of it. You lot are used to dropping out of the sky and taking down a fortress, but now you’ve got us. I guarantee we’ve got superior skills to most of the Ice of Rage’s horde. I’m sure none of us are worried about their infantry, which is easily half or more of his forces. You lot were lacking in magical might, but me, ‘n’ Yuri, ‘n’ Zelshiz especially, and Zel’s little troop, we bring it in spades.”

Puffing a breath, I nod in agreement. Yui’s right, as crude a goal as it is, it is indeed one of our main goals, slaying as much of Terrorzin’s forces, especially his mages, as possible. It’s concrete enough to find a high spot in a list of priorities when we get around to making it. That’s all I’m asking at the moment.

Jokingly, Teuila asserts, “Gotta make time for snogging, work in some snog sessions, keep our spirits up as high as we can soar, yeah?” More quietly, she addresses Yui, “What do you look for in a partner anyway Yooty-tootie?”

Smirking first, Yui raises a brow towards Teuila, then furrows it before responding in an annoyed tone, “Nothing, because I don’t. Besides, corny as it is, no man could measure up to that idiot brother of mine.”

Oh boy, I can see where this one’s going from a mile away, she walked right into that one. Teuila, grinning madly, retorts, “Then good thing I’m no man, and I think we both know how well I measure up. Don’t we chickadee?”

Flustered, Yui blushes, the teal scales on her cheeks reddening. Her blush visibly warms the air around her, causing little heat-mirage waves. She awkwardly averts her gaze momentarily, then shrugs a bit helplessly. With a flick of her brow and a twitch of her head, she offers up a silent signal that reads as, “Yeah, I guess so,” more or less anyway. This of course sets Teuila to grinning like a loon. Leave it to Te to find another new makeout partner in the middle of a strategy session.

Oh, oh I can tell where this is about to go. Te, you wouldn’t. Would you? Sighing and nodding while I close my eyes, I see Teuila sidle up to where Ahliyuri leans against a wall. Still grinning like a madbeast, she whispers, “So hot stuff, your sis is pretty sure you’re packing a mean punch,” her face sobers and almost pouts as she abashedly adds, “I guess you both already know that I do too,” before continuing with her usual zeal to chase her opportunities, “so, do your scaly lips pack as much punch as your fists and spells?”

Taken aback, Yuri sputters, “Do my what what? What in the hell are you—oh. Ohhh,” before clamming up, blushing. The twin Spellknights even blush the same, their teal scales scalding enough to leave heat-mirage-waves in the air. Teuila sneakily leans closer, and steals a kiss from those very burning cheeks. I can’t fault her for chasing her passions and joys, even if the timing is a bit inappropriate.

I’m grateful that everyone else is either too occupied to notice, or at least pretends not to notice Teuila’s very overt flirtations. Not that any of us really mind. Between Fae and dragons’ open affection policies, Te’s antics aren’t really anything out of the ordinary. I know she’s got a thing going on with Alanea, and has probably either already worked out something with Littlebit, or intends to later in private.

I wonder if she hit on the twins just now for any particular reason? I know she was fancying chances at flirting with Farzhis and Leezahna earlier, and she thinks Veril is a cutie. We knew a few sets of twins back home on Can’Z’aas. Sugar and Spice, Manaia and Manameia, um, Spring Blossom and, was it Six Wind? Six Thunder? Wait, I think Six Wind was one of the cat tribe, but Three Thunder was another. It’s been so long. I took for granted the inventory interface that I could always gaze at, and always see the names of those I held dear.

Regardless, I turn my attention back to the gathering at large, in time to catch Nala asserting, “Our experiments stabilizing and maintaining the presence of ethereal excitations are paramount to any number of projects that I believe are high on your priority list friend Reggie. I envision entangling effulgent eidolons amidst electrostatic electrogenesis would provide elucidation and enlightenment, at any rate—“

Giggling, Littlebit cuts in to quip, “Hehe, a dolphin could sum up our experiment and conversation. Eee eee eee, y’know? Emissions of ephemeral ethereal excitations are better than emissions of effluvial excretions at least, ephemeral or not, eh? Hehehe.”

Pft, I bite my lips but fail to suppress my snort of laughter that ripples through my nasal passages. Ow. Hah. That was so bad Littlebit. My cheeks hurt from trying to fight my smile. What a goon. No wonder she’s so in love with Tiktik, and Tiktik with her. I sigh wistfully for a moment, wishing I could see Kitten, hear her thoughts at the moment. Next time I visit, I’ll carry a paired scrying sensor, and leave one for her. Hm, that should be a goal or two.