Machinations of Light's Glory - death, decisions, doom

This is the game thread for Machinations of Light's Glory. Rules and chat thread is here.

In the beginning, the gods created the heavens and the earth.
But the earth was not content to sit in the shadow of its creator. The world claimed the power to reshape itself, and called it magic.
Humanity made prayers to the divine, and made requests of the magic, and became great through their favour.
But humanity was not content to sit in the shadow of these forces of creation. With the advance of time, mortals claimed the power to reshape themselves, and called it technology.

Now creation runs rampant. Mortals begin to rival the gods and the world in power and ambition.

In the end, humanity will destroy the heavens and the earth.



Since the events at the Ruins of Light’s Glory in the distant past, the world has changed in so many ways. But the survivors of that near-calamity made sure that humanity would never be so unprepared again. They established a secret society to guard the mortal world from the horrors beneath the earth, at any cost.

Only those with the influence to make a difference are invited to join. You are the powerful, the elite, the influential, the inspiring, the ruthless. You are politicians and monarchy that rule over nations. You are CEOs of megacorporations and heads of noble houses. You are generals of armies, leaders of revolutions. You are pop stars, reality tv show contestants, cyberyoutube vloggers, and let’s-play diarists. You are the remarkable beings that are not of humanity, but walk among them with the power to save us.

You are the Arkiolojiss Society.

On your initiation, all of you were briefed extensively on the threat. You were told of the floating island tucked away in a small corner of the world. You were told of the chasm beneath it, and the infernal howling that rises from that darkness in the night. You were told of the terrible Scythe of Antioch that can set them free, and how only the Sanctified Sacrificial Knife can seal them away again.



Now the worst has come to pass, and you have all received word. The Scythe has returned. The hellsgate is opening. You all must return to the island of Light’s Glory, and do what must be done to hold back the tide of darkness until those responsible have been stopped.



Despite all your modern technologies, the scale of your world and the remoteness of the technomonastery mean it took you several days to arrive. Now you are here, you see you were almost too late. All of the monks that make up the permanent residents of this hallowed place are already dead, their bodies strewn across the meeting hall in the main facility.

The Sanctified Knife stands tall, buried to the hilt in the chest of the last monk. Her sacrifice let the world stand for one more day. But now the sun is going down, and another sacrifice will be needed tomorrow.

Only someone with the special training of the Arkiolojiss Society could have unmade the shields. It would have taken at least three of you to begin the rite. You must find this Evil among you, and end them, before you run out of good souls to keep the darkness at bay.

The first night begins.

Beginning Convict Rehabilitation Series 452...
Assignment: Raven School.
Primary Role: Investigation/Inquiry/Resolution
Secondary Role: [REDACTED]
Conditional parole term: ~25 days, contingent upon [a] survival, continued existence of reality as we know it

Ouch. [EXPRESSION: PAIN/DISCOMFORT]

I hate cryosleep. [EMOTION: RESTRAINED IRRITATION]

I just love waking up with this damn initiative suppressor installed even more. [EMOTION: UNBRIDLED SARCASM]

Paroled from [REDACTED] to the Raven School? Oh, [REDACTED]. This is Light's Glory, isn't it? [ANALYSIS: CORRECT]

Can I at least switch the holotext to internal-only? [EXECUTING IN 3-2-1]

Well, this beats prison. And here I thought the Arkiolojiss Society was just a myth. Hoped more than thought.

Suppose we'll see who else is here.

The doors would hiss open as his own personal section of the transport vessel came alive. The hulking body of Baron Ji-Sidas, Technocrat and Baron of the hold known as Nova Sidessia, stepped from his personal quarters. The metallic floor rang dully with each step, his own synthetic legs noise dampened by various different technologies embedded throughout his body.

Ji-Sidas looked around the White Section. These were the people that the Arkiolojiss Society paired him with. The Order of White, Dove's School of White Magic. Magic being a misnomer, in his mind, a simple explanation to a much greater truth. Truly, technology was wonderful, and if the people of this world needed the coddling of "Magic" to get them to embrace and understand the wonders that could be done on the nano-molecular level, so be it. Who was he to stand in the way of forward progress?

No, indeed, Ji-Sidas had never stood in the way of progress, instead you would have found him running alongside, throwing himself onto it's back and riding it into the sunset. Nova Sidessia, formerly the Old Canadian Republic of Champlain, consisted of a vast swath of area that, for much of it's existence, was powerful and important to the world. However, when Ji-Sidas took control, the area was considered past it's prime. He drew that vast wasteland back to it's former importance, and then took it farther, creating one of the largest and most important city-states that ruled the many different areas of the world.

All in a day's work.

Stylized as an entrepreneur, his enemies often called him the "Demon" Ji-Sidas; a man with a hatred for the lower classes and a penchant for mass exterminations. None of these accusations were ever verified, but he held an air of steely determination; he saw a problem, and saw that there needed to be a solution (After all, it wouldn't be a problem if it didn't need to be solved).

He ran a hand over the fins that were now permanently part of his head, and had to stop the unconscious movement, a relic from the days when he had hair. Those were many, many, many years ago, but regardless he had kept the tick. If nothing else, it helped reassure the less technophilic amongst society that he wasn't a killer robot hell bent on enslaving all of them. And as long as they thought that, they often didn't care what decisions he made.

He awaited others from the White to announce themselves, but saw only one other person so far; a great brute of a man with one cybernetic eye. The man seemed to exude violence, or at least an unfavorable disposition.

Great. Convicts.

We're all going to die. Sorry, I know people aren't supposed to bring that up in normal conversation, never mind in a cheerful tone of voice, but I feel like we should all be ready for what's coming, don't you? And we're all dying the moment we're born anyway--or made in some cases--so it's like even if you try to postpone it with implants and everything even metal eventually breaks down and it's possible before your organic heart or lungs or brain or whatever gives out you'll catch some kind of weird virus anyway that shuts down the other vital functions that you might have being run by other things and oh--you can call me Q, you've probably heard of me although if you hadn't I wouldn't be insulted as I realize lots of people have lots of different interests and some people aren't into the whole gothic-cyber-death movement that I've been heading on my cyberyoutube channel <3wereallgoing2die:) but you've probably at least heard of us since all the news stations have been covering us and we were blamed for a big suicide thing in schools a couple years ago but really, when your time is up its up and why leave it to chance when you can take it into your own hands and leave this level of existence on your own terms and those kids were really brave to realize that they had the power and I'm sure they're much happier anyway and this looks like a completely and totally interesting group of people and I can't wait to get to know you all even if most of us probably won't be returning but it's not like this is the end-end, you know.

We're all going to die anyway. Does anyone want some gum?

Kohei paced anxiously in his room aboard the transport ship. It had been many years since he was last on a field assignment, long before he was shipped up to the Ark: a library of priceless texts and manuscripts from ancient history, a vault containing artifacts of known and unknown power, and a place of absolute confinement. Kohei was grateful to the Arkiolojiss Society for their "hospitality", but getting to spend his time away from the Ark with a group of people unknown to him was little comfort. Especially given the circumstances. Lighting a cigarette, he sighed and walked out into the landing zone to wait for the rest of his group.

Breathe. This is like any other set of videos you've shot. No one outsideSociety will want t of the Arkiolojiss Society will see these, and that's assuming reality as we know it is still the same in a month. Might not even survive the night, you've heard the stories. Might as well leave something for the world to remember you by. Nothing for it then.
Adjust lens. Tuck long dark hair behind ears, check make up. Breathe.
Shooting The Secret Chronicles of Lady Phoe, Ep.1: Meeting the Crew.
Smile.
"Well, here I am. Brilliant, talented, gorgeous, and likely to die horribly within the month days, though I suppose that last one's true for the whole world if I don't do my job. Hope my lovely viewers don't miss me too much, might never get another video out of me. Suppose it's time to meet the rest of the crew, so there is some record of our happy time still breathing together. The Society will want to know what happened, at any rate, even if they have to put up with my snarky commentary. Hi Society! Assuming you're alive. If not, that's cool too, I suppose."
Sigh.
"I'm a little nervous I suppose. What with the Herons mysteriously disappearing and all. Where did they go? My school of magic is fairly new, what if the rest of us are picked off next? And, yeah, the high casualty rate the last time something like this happened isn't exactly soothing."
Brush hair out of your face.
"Guess I should see who I'm going to spend the next couple weeks with. Oh look, someone's coming. Hey stranger, I'm Phoe! What's your name?"

Would you look at that.

What a fine motley crew we have going on here eh? Seems we have a bit of mystery afoot. Name's Edward Quention Isidore. People usually call me Q, but I see that the goth metal chick took that name instead. So call me E instead. I'm a consultant. I hope you ain't gonna ask a consultant of what exactly, cos well, I consult eh? But talking about me job is a bit of a bore, so let's get down to the problem at hand shall we?

A pod sitting in the cargo bay lights up, unfolding to reveal a hideous conglomeration of flesh, metal, and tubing. Bits and pieces resembling what once might have been a person are barely recognizable here and there. On the front and back are the letters QBHCS. As machine hummed to life, the human eyes opened and began to frantically scan back and forth across the room, becoming more and more panicked as different components of the machine powered on. The (currently) most advanced quantum system was not without its horrifying ethical and practical drawbacks.

For the quantum processor to operate, it required a fresh human mind to be fully integrated into it. As the human mind is still not fully understood, hardware to meet the need is not yet available and the production of a quantum computer required a human to be sacrificed. Kept alive by the homeostasis sub-systems, the human mind is still conscious but exerts no influence on the operation of the computer, acting simply as a symbiote, providing computational resources and receiving nourishment. As a consequence, while the quantum system itself is invulnerable to "magic" (and incapable of performing it), the human symbiote is not and the machine is able to compel the human to take part in any magical endeavors. Should the human die, the machine will be inoperable.

THE QUANTUM BIT HUMAN COMPUTER SYNTHESIS IS OPERATIONAL AND PREPARED TO BEGIN INVESTIGATION.

ADJUSTING VOLUME.

It is acceptable to refer to this unit as "Quantum Bit" for short.

"Phoe, is it? Just call me...Speak." If you seriously don't know who I am already, I suppose we can start fresh. Or maybe we were all supposed to take codenames for this after all. Damn it, I knew I should have read the instructions more thoroughly.

Platinum blonde in a bottle-green jumpsuit, dark glasses hiding her eyes, curled up catlike in a conference chair. The face of a hundred magazine covers, a thousand music videos, millions of holodics, and one ill-planned and widely circulated sex tape. Dazzler, what in the name of Elyon were you thinking? When you transmute sound into light as naturally as breathing, and you let one seemingly innocent partner film one seemingly innocent date, you become very widely known as the only girl in the multiverse who glows in strobing neon colors during climax.

If they really don't recognize me, let that stand. Maybe I can actually be of some use here, assuming the others aren't too freewheeling with their camera implants. Now, if I can just figure out who I'm supposed to be working with in this freewheeling mass of knuckleheads...

She sent out a thought wave, picking up the frequencies of that one-eyed hunk talking to his implants and the shifty-looking gent with the obnoxious Cockney accent. --Welcome to hell. I hope you're up to this.--

Ann de La Vallière.
A young woman, barely 20. Pale skin - almost sickly looking - a stark contrast to her black hair and brilliant green eyes.
Stepping out of the transport vessel, she looked around curiously. Youngest child of the Marquis de La Vallière, a powerful noble from the nothern lands, Ann had grown up sheltered. This was the first time she had ever left her native country without personal entourage, but there was no trace of anxiety in her demeanour. Quite the contrary - never in her life had she been this excited!

"So this island exists after all!" Her lips curled into a smile. "I can not wait to find out what it will have in store for us."

##RAVEN SIGNAL DETECTED: 3/5##

Raven School. By all the [REDACTED]...

An outpost full of dead monks. I had nothing to do with it, couldn't if I wanted to thanks to these damnable implants. Out of a [REDACTED] year cryo-sentence and dumped into this fiasco. Better than the long sleep, but not by much. Not much of a choice, a few days of "freedom" and then back to the cooler. Upside is that eventually I get to go back to the world, assuming it doesn't end thanks to these [REDACTED] cultists.

Not sure why the Ravens picked a [REDACTED] but I'm not going to waste this opportunity. So where's the rest of my... oh, [REDACTED], my team?

Oh, Miss de La Valliere, death is in store for us! There are a lot of dead people here and there were many more before them and before them and--you get the idea. I expect there's hundreds of ghosts hanging around as well. Every time you breathe, you're breathing in the remnant soul of the dead here. I mean, probably everywhere, but here especially. So if you find that a bit weird or unsettling I'd suggest perhaps not breathing too deeply and if and when we all end up dead maybe don't stand so near the alive people while you haunt them. I talk pretty fast so if I'm talking too fast just let me know and--well I probably won't slow down but know that I hold no ill-will towards people that can't keep up with me it's just I live in the now since we're all going to die so it seems silly to not just enjoy everything that's happening at the very moment and at this very moment there's just so many people to get to know and I can already tell that we're all going to get along so well even if we have to decide to kill one person a day but I think that's why I'm here to ensure everyone that that's totally okay because everyone dies and therefore we should not at all feel bad about dying in such a wonderful, democratic way for such a wonderful cause!

I've seriously got plenty of gum here if anyone else wants it. I've got bubblegum flavor, strawberry flavor, grape flavor, orange flavor, diesel flavor, cherry flavor...

Oh... You're with me. Hmmm. Were assignments handed out by blind epileptics? Did they do groupings by bingo?

Actually, considering your "talents", have you considered a career in consulting? Perhaps, even developments? I'm sure the field has a use for a man of your many skills. Perhaps we can chat, once we've put this nasty business behind us, eh?

Once we remedy this... "situation", I go back into cryosleep. I've still got [REDACTED] years of a [REDACTED] year sentence for [REDACTED] -- seriously? Seriously, you damn AI?

Suffice to say that the Raven School doesn't like it when people [REDACTED] and I got put away. This is someone's idea of dark humor, I guess.

"Just Ann is fine, Miss... Q, was it?
And I don't mind if death is waiting for us. Isn't that half the thrill? Not knowing whether we'll see the next sunrise, or join the legion of lingering ghosts. It is like something out of a Gothic romance!"

[Inside the Aircraft]

The video communications indicator lighted up with a ping. Switching the controls to autopilot, Paradoxial pulled up the appropriate screen and accepts the message.

"Lieutenant General Paradoxial reporting."


A familiar face lit up the screen and the rushing about of government officials instantly assaulted her ears.

"Would you turn down the background noise, Secretary Thisburn?"

Thisburn burst into a wide smile.

"I am loving this new title. No more second place to missy warhawk Para anymore, no sirree. How much more until you reach this super secret mission of yours?"

"I have a few more hours to go. ETA of 1400. How are things back there?"

"The new Democratic Republic of Ithium is doing great. Can I just say how much I love that? I still can't believe we actually got this thing done. And the law school refused to accept me, well, hah! Now us revolutionists get to pick whether you still get to exist!"

A silent raised eyebrow from Paradoxial set the man back on track.

"We finally got the network back up so all the cyberyoutubers have stopped sending angry emails."

"Yes, I suppose cutting off the network controlling business transactions, political conferences, and forum site hosting as a bargaining tool was not my best idea."


"At any rate, we're having a big meeting on reconstruction in a couple meetings and I should probably go over my briefing again. Good luck on your mission. No doubt you'll succeed but eh, formalities."

Paradoxial returned the parting and the holographic screen clicked off. A tired sigh left her lips. 'I hope so. Saving the world is only a few steps up from taking over a country, anyway.' Her back ached as she settled into the pilot's chair. 'If the assembled team is decent, I may be able to return to Ithium and view the progress. Otherwise...all those casualties will have been for naught.' Her thoughts briefly flicked through the faces of her deceased compatriots. Her body shook. Paradoxial told herself it was just the turbulence. Neither of the selves believed it.

[A few hours later]

Paradoxial fixed her hat for the sixth time and brushed away invisible lint. It was without doubt that the team would be full of highly specialized operatives, what with such an important mission, and she wanted to make a good first impression. Not many people were accepting of such a young commissioned officer. The door slid open, revealing the group of people already gathered. Some girl macking on gum, another one muttering to herself, a motley of smokers, inexperienced nobility, and was that...the convict from a report sent to the academy a year ago!

'The world is doomed.'

Though no transport is registered as currently arriving, the outer doors of the monastery open and in strides a towering grey figure half again the height of a normal man. Beneath a writhing mass of tentacles a monk-like robe appearing to alternate between solid metal and flowing fabric reaches to the floor. Half-heard incomprehensible whispers seem to emanate from shadows at the threshold of hearing, but recording equipment picks up nothing but occasional distortions from electromagnetic interference.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh

Ahem. Sorry about that, had something stuck in my throat. Greetings fellow Archae- that is Arkiolojissts. I respectfully ask that you not maintain prolonged eye-contact in close proximity, as that has been known to cause temporary, or in some cases lasting, insanity. This is surely due to latent psychic emanations and not the weight of aeons of alien knowledge crushing your trembling human mind as it perceives something perscriptive of the true nature of reality, because that would be silly. As we all know credible contact with alien entities has yet to happen. My name is Q'Cighulkthul, but as my colleagues at the research institute nicknamed me for sleeping through the long stretches of time as test subjects matured, you may call me Lazy.

A small pleasure craft streaks in low and loud, heavy bass blasting from the open-topped vessel's speakers as it's pilot brings it in for a landing. The young man with the blonde ponytail at the wheel hops out, a smile hidden by the strange mask he wears. When he speaks, his voice is clearly mechanical in nature.

"Hello all you lucky people! That's right, it is the one, the only, the real deal, John Stargazer in the flesh, fresh off the concert tour and thrilled to be here. Now, my manager wasn't entirely clear on what this whole Ark-whatsit society was about, but I promise you, this isn't just some kind of lame pr grab on my part, I am with you guys one hundred per cent..." He flicks off his mirrorshades and glances around, the smile quickly fading as he sees the carnage. "Whoa. Prop department went all out on the synthclone corpses, huh?"

A howl pierces the quiet as a neon blur speeds dangerously close to the icy surface. It turns too quickly, one wing clipping an outcrop, the metal bursting into fragments. Its tail end spins forward, the entire craft rolling over...

With another wrenching groan, the other wing folds beneath the weight as the craft smashes into the ground. Shards of ice fly as it grates against the frozen surface, a keening wail. It slides and slides closer to the outer doors of the main facility, sweeping down snow and rock alike. Only as it approaches the monastery does the wreckage slow in its path, resting a few steps short of breaching the building altogether. The outer lights upon the wreckage glow, but flicker within moments to blankness.

A crumpled panel flies out from the crash, landing half embedded in a pile of snow. A figure squeezes out of the opening, massaging her neck. As soon as she frees herself, she sticks her head back into the wreck, reappearing with a cigar in hand. Deftly, she twirls the cigar between her fingers before resting it gently between her green lips. Her eyes flicker to the gathered party before she speaks.

"Hajimemashite! Olivia 'Ozzo' Zita desu. Which Goshujin-sama called for a MEIDO?"

If I never heard that voice again, it would be too soon. "They're real, pretty boy. Not that you're much acquainted with the concept." Dazzler uncoils from her chair, slinks over to Stargazer, stops directly in front of him...and slaps him so hard you can hear the dull ring of flesh-on-metal across the hall.

"Mister Stargazer. Fancy meeting you here...this was supposed to be a 'best and brightest' sort of gathering, wasn't it? Did one of our lovely lady friends invite you as arm candy? Or did you buy some credentials with the profits from that vid?"

He stood near the body of the last monk, innocuous in the grey jumpsuit worn by the masses of the world. From a duffel slung over one shoulder he pulled a helmet, something that may once have been commercial but was now modified in a seemingly haphazard way. A bank of cameras and lenses obscured his face as he put the helmet on and then knelt down to look closely at the Sanctified Knife. Clicks and whirs came from the device he wore, but he was careful not to touch anything. After a few minutes he rose to his feet and removed the helmet. "There has to be a better way," he said with a wistful voice. He placed the helmet back into the duffel and walked away.

Leaning on a railing overlooking the airship docks he watched them arrive. He had found through long experience that it helped to arrive early for this kind of situation.

The Arkiolojiss was not what it once was, it's members are more concerned with ruling the world than saving it these days. 'Still' he reflected, 'Am I really so different?'. Is it any wonder that the original purpose of this order would start to seem quaint and old fashioned in a world of nano-machine hair stylists and cyber slaves. Magic itself has begun to lose it's lustre in the multi-screened glow of the modern age. At least the order has maintained it standards on that score, every arrival so far bears the tell-tale signature of mage. A good sign, well - unless they are faking it.

It appears the monks in this monastery used a local-network computer noticeboard to communicate with each other. The interface was a little last century to say the least but he found it a relatively simple task to hook it into his portable communicator and set it up to log a record of all communications.



Welcome to the Hellmouth Arkioljissts,

You can call me... Mr. Lawrence for the purposes of this particular mission. It seems the monks kept this place in decent order, apart from their sudden deaths and the distress signal you wouldn't know anything was wrong. Whoever pulled this off was careful and organised if there's any trace of them left it's beyond my particular set of skills. I'm sure most of you noticed the malevolent emanations long before landing but, just in case you didn't get the message, what's down there makes all our magic put together look like a candle next to the sun. If you didn't take the society too seriously before today now's the time to readjust your calculations.

The last note on this re-purposed message board before our arrival gives instructions on how the monks would prefer their bodies be disposed of in the event of their deaths. It's a fairly standard nano-cleanse procedure, takes a few minutes to dissolve all non-living, unshielded, organic matter - but I've held off for now in case someone else is able to pull any useful evidence from the remains.

Other than that I've prepared some drinks in the main hall for a meet and greet, you are all welcome to join me. Some of you are internationally famous already but if I've learned anything in my line of work it's that people are rarely what they seem from afar. As the briefing packet explained there's a grim task awaiting us tomorrow so if I could offer any advice it would be enjoy tonight or get some sleep.

Blazing across the sky, a red fighter jet comes into view. Carving a majestic arc it dives into a spinning whirlwind and shoots down towards the assembled crowd on the ground. In the last minute it deftly swings up again and then with skill and elegance it gracefully floats down to land next to the crashed remains of Ozzos craft with a soft thud.

The bright red jet is shaped to resemble an old triplane from a long forgotten era. Suddenly with a hiss and rising steam, a hatch opens up and a figure emerges wearing a red coat and a plumed helmet. His coat is adorned with numerous medals and awards, while his strangely metallic face glints in the flickering lights of the monastery.

Good day Ladies and Gentlemen, you may rest at ease now, for I have arrived! Having commanded armies and beaten every foe that has ever dared to confront me, I will surely master this trifling matter. For those poor souls unfamiliar with my legacy, I am Baron Cormac Red, First General of the Prussian Republic and ruler of 3 continents.

As he steps closer, the assembled crowd can see that his face appears to have been replaced by servos and motors whirring and clicking along giving his a voice a strange hollow metallic ring.

You will have to excuse my apparance but after centuries of warfare, I've had the need to replace parts of my body to counteract the incestant gnawing of time. Though soon I will beat death itself when I leave behind the last of my fragile fallible flesh.

As his gaze sweeps the crowd, his disdain is apparent. He was expecting mighty generals and warriors fit for battling this evil that has come to challenge the world. The motly crew in front of him did not quite meet his expectations. A bunch of cyber kids and hackers, though there were one or two individuals who seemed promising enough and should be able assist him in the upcoming battle...

Aye, you'll be a wordy lot. Be a wonder if we don't fucking gab ourselves to death on the morrow. I expect we'll be doing something about this grimdark evil soon eh?

Mr. E Isn't it?

While I don't think anyone has had to deal with an incident on anything like this scale before it's been my experience that these things have a certain pattern. Right now we're in an information gathering stage; analyzing evidence, checking scry targets that sort of thing. But most of all we're sounding out one another, because the kind of power needed to take out these monks, steal the scythe and start the clock on this hellmouth? That's the kind of power that only resides in one group of individuals in the entire world and there's no prizes for guessing that we're it. Sure, we could rush around blindly wildly making accusations but I'll leave it as an open question as to exactly whose agenda that'll serve.

So... take a glass, enjoy a bit of light conversation. But keep your eyes open.

Stargazer's head moved with slap, but he seemed oddly unconcerned by the blow itself. Possibly just too used to it happening.

"Dazzler? You're here, too? Look, I meant to call you, honest, but one thing led to another and I just never got around to it, sweetie." He adjusts his mask, continuing, "And watch it with this thing. I'm not supposed to talk without a voice synth when I'm not recording or on tour to save my voice. You know how important that is... at least for those of us people still want to hear. Shame about that last album, dear, I'm sure it will pick up steam any minute now."

"Hey, nice to meet you! Love your work. Your last album was stunning. How are you feeling about this whole thing?"
Blah blah blah famous people small talk.
Honestly, I think the biggest challenge will to keep from murdering each other in the coming days, I can feel it. Might as well acquaint myself with the other members of my school... Is that Para the yaoi fan girl and Danny the dentist wannabe from school? Heh, blackmail. I bet Para still can't help herself shipping anything, het or yaoi. She'll probably even start shipping crew members.

Agent Bladi patted her pocket. They're still there, just like the last time you checked. Come on, pull it together.
Thank Doom she'd still had time to visit Fatbirdios before leaving. Stressful situations increased the chance of The Feels which would look very unprofessional and might even get her killed. There was a time and a place for emoticons and huggles, and this wasn't it.
Alright. Just one, to calm my nerves. Putting her hand in her pocket, she took out a small box filled with something that any regular person might think were stickers. She took one out, opened the top of her outfit and placed it on the skin, over her heart. It was absorbed almost instantly and a wave of warmth came over her, making her utter a little squee. Much better. Now to check out what we're dealing with. She grabbed her gun and left the small airship, making sure the box was deep inside her pocket. She didn't share her likes with anyone.

"Ah wish ah could say i's a pleasah t'be heah." I wish I could say it's a pleasure to be here, the man says, in a soft but carrying voice. His accent is thick but comprehensible, with clear diction and a slow pace. "It's a pretty enough day to die, though. Some of you might already know me... but if you don't, usually I just go by Chance."

He sits down by a tree, smiling up at the group. His anachronistic staff rests across his knees, and he shuffles a deck of cards absently, as if it were a tick.

Isn't this the most amazing group of people you've ever seen, Miss Ann? Oh, it looks like some of them don't like each other--YET! Surely our combined purpose will bring everyone together--Oh, Mr. Lawrence you made drinks?! That was so super sweet and thoughtful of you! I'm sure everyone is super thirsty! I've been chomping on this gum since the third ring of Alterian and let me tell you it DOES lose it's flavor after a couple hours of lightspeed even though the advertisement swears that it won't but I guess they were just trying to sell more gum and I can't really blame them for that it must be really hard to try to get people to like things if you're in marketing--I mean not eye lasers or ray guns because everyone loves those but the other things that have to be sold must be a real drain on the imagination of those trying to make it appealing to every--

Chance did you say? it IS a pretty enough day to die isn't it?! I'm so glad to see there are kindred spirits here! And not like ghost-spirits if that's what you're thinking I mean people with whom I share something really special. That's probably all of you, by the way, in case you're feeling left out, and I just haven't found exactly the right thing that we shall become best friends about yet! BUT I TOTALLY WILL :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Paradoxial watched as the imposing figure in red descended. He seemed familiar but she wasn't able to place him until he announced himself due to the cyber enhancement. The great Baron. Her history and strategy classes had all covered, in great depth, his battles over the past decades. Her teachers praised such military brilliance. Paradoxial herself had employed a few of his maneuvers to greBat advantage in a schoolwide Capture the Flag game. One might say she was a fan. He seemed considerable more arrogant off the holographic textbooks but it was understandable when one considered his long list of accomplishments.

She quickly marched over and gave the general a stiff salute.

"'Tis indeed a rather ... unique group the Arkiolojiss Society gathered here. But we're still missing a few me-"
A loud crashing noise interrupted her, followed by a somewhat familiar voice.

Ann cringed. That voice.
'By the omniscient eye, please don't let it be her. Anyone but her.'

##RAVEN SIGNAL COMPLETE 5/5##

[452 - PRIMARY ROLE ACTIVE. AUTHORIZED LEVEL OF ESCALATION: ALPHA. ZERO COLLATERAL DAMAGE PERMITTED.]

Thank you so very much, you [REDACTED] AI.

I don't suppose I could take one of these pods and get off this--

[INITIATING COUNTERMEASURES. PAIN STIMULATORS ACTIVE.]

ARGH! Okay, not going to try that again. All right, so running isn't an option on the table. [ANALYSIS: AFFIRMATIVE, 452. PRIMARY ROLE IMPERATIVE.]

Investigate, inquire, and resolve. Fine. The damn [REDACTED] put an AI in my head that wants to turn me into a [REDACTED] cop. If that ain't cruel and unusual punishment, I don't know what is.

Since I appear to already have someone else's attention - maybe we'll meet tonight, maybe we won't. I'm going to talk it over with the rest of the Ravens before contacting you.

The hum of circuits and the subtle sound of coalescing data was all that could be heard within the sterile environment of the transport ship. There were none of the usual amenities that one might expect from a transport ship. There were no lights, no windows, no pilot or pilot's chair. There was simply a single dock where a woman of metal and silicone lay sleeping. Wires threaded through her body, feeding her knowledge about the conditions outside her dark and silent resting place. She was known as Nebty, High Priestess of the Light. Nebty was her spiritual name, the one she had been given upon her selection by the holy council's computers following the death of the previous high priestess. She could no longer remember having any other name. As a child she had been deemed the most likely, out of billions of other children, to be the 31st reincarnation of the High Priestess, and it was therefore her duty to protect the Church of the Light at all costs. The time had finally come to fulfill that duty.

The ship glided down to rest on the Island known as Light's Glory. The navicomputer beeped once, and a synthesized voice broke the ship's internal silence.

My lady, you have arrived.

The woman opened her eyes.

"Acknowledged."

There are prayers and petitions that you have not yet downloaded from the servers.

"Prepare a data dump, then. I cannot delay my arrival any longer."

My lady, I am obliged to warn you that that procedure puts great strain upon your remaining organic components. It will likely cause you pain.

"My order stands."

Very well.

Well, it looks as though many of us have arrived, though we still seem to be doing so. Let me be the first to welcome anyone not welcomed by anyone else to the Citadel, or what remains of it from the past. I'm sure you all know why we're here; we are the elite of the elite, masters of many and beholden to few. We are the movers and the shakers of this world, and this world has chosen us as it's champions. We alone stand in the way of the on-set of some great evil, an evil that has bubbled to the surface before and been struck down before it's grip could take hold.

Now I don't know about you folks, but I don't intend to be the first Arkiolojiss society to fail in our defense. But, I also don't see much else to do besides come up with a plan.

So who's got a plan?

So, I was looking for more wine in the monastery basement just now when I found a strange door frame apparently carved from solid rock. It was marked around the arch with the Old Nemoric runes for safety, long-life and great wisdom. Well... my Old Nemoric is a little rusty so I may have the modifiers backwards. In any case whatever it said is of no consequence because someone had filled the entire doorway with at least ten feet of that super high density plasteel. I reckon you'd need a month and a powerful set of nano drills to even try and clear that out. I scanned the structure and it was clearly put in several decades ago so whatever is back there clearly has no bearing on our current situation.

On the upside, I did find more wine. A lot more. I guess these monks really were prepared for the end of the world.

I see our little gathering is swelling, please introduce yourselves and help yourselves to a glass, or three. Well, assuming that some of you can still process wine.

Nebty descended the stairs which had folded out of the side of her ship. Her head was covered by a gossamer veil, though if one looked closely enough they would be able to make out bunches of wires protruding from her head in a bizarre facsimile of hair. Nebty chose to wear the veil to put her new companions at ease. In the long centuries since being chosen, she had come to realize that her obvious cybernetic enhancements made many people uncomfortable.

Nebty picked up a glass of wine, studying the colour with interest.

"Most kind of you, Mr. Lawrence. And a pleasure to meet you."

She raised the glass and murmered, "may I walk always in the Light," before taking a sip.

The pleasure, and honour, is all mine your grace.

I have some hope the church's expertise and resources will be of particular use in our current situation, but that, perhaps, is business for the morning. For now, welcome to the citadel, if you can manage to block out the grim psychic emanations from below the view really is quite spectacular at sunset.