Dimensions

[Boo Girlie BoomBoom]

no-lightbox

~Jet~

Subject PO-001994

<~~~<★>~~~> ​

Jet shook out her massive hide a few times before continuing on with the rest. The telepathic communication she sent out to Kelkov had drained her quite a bit. Not good. Such a use of her power was like breathing; it should be automatic and without strain. But here... here where she was out of phase, this was a bit concerning to her to say the least. After feeling exhausted from trying to Commune there was no way that she would make an attempt to shift into any other form now.

As they traipsed through the city scape Jet could not help but allow her big yellow eyes to scan her surroundings. White upon white, organized and well-designed. Such a different state of living when compared to the memories of the war-torn and decimated cities of her Earth. The immense sentry machines were much more advanced and in better condition compared to the battle suits and other such weaponry that had sprouted up in the three-sided war. To the smaller and varying other beings lined up in battle suits, she gave a suspicious eye. Would the newcomers here, Jet included, become conscripted and garbed in the same fashion? And of what dominance and overbearing fist would they all be commanded, she wondered. But the tech and weaponry they sported, she took quite a keen interest all the same.

In the three-sided war on her home planet, The Sapiens, Shifters and Shamans had gone the route of bio-tech and spiritual advancements. The Bestials had gone with sheer force of will and discovered ways to enhance their physical dominance. The Phages had tried to embrace nocturnal tech but with the conscription of Shamans, they had begun to alter their tech and induce spiritual powers as well. In her Earth, war was the mother of necesssary invention.

But in this place, this Dimension, it seemed that the tech here dwarfed those upon her home planet. Jet would still infiltrate, however, and discover secrets of the power here. And she would bring it back home to turn the tides of battle in their favour until the war was won.

<~<★>~>​

Of them all, she seemed to keep close to the goat-boy. As annoying as it was, the goat-boy seemed to be the most open-- perehaps even naive?-- of them all. That and it had recognized her 'penmanship' right away and that really did flatter her afterall. And what had impressed her the most, from regarding the goat-boy just now, was how it began to inspect his eviron as it went. Not a word did it utter, it just diligently took in its surroundings as any survivor worth their salt would do.

The pumpkin-head, she had to keep her distance for fear that she may randomly strike out at it. Not out of aggression, mind you, but out of sheer joy; like a kitty playing with a toy. That too was not good. She never had such silly, yet strong, juvenille urges like that before... welllll...

Jet was not a bully, but she tended to pick on those she felt she could over-power. She would tease them, but for some reason with the pumpkin-head at least, she wanted to do more than tease; teasing did not include use of her massive claws and giant ivory teeth afterall..

Kelkov, the Shaman, she would keep an eye on. This one she trusted the least. Even though this male had relented and joined the rest of them, she could not help but still be wary of the fact that it had offered up services to such a dark and fierce entity in exchange for knowlege. Or power. Jet had seen such acts of willfulness before and she had been there when her troupe had to 'pacify' those Shamans. These bastards had foregone their directives and turned upon those others that helped them to be free of the Phage and Bestial's domination and tyranny. And if it came down to it, as she had said before, she would 'pacify' Kelkov's ambitons in a heartbeat. But she would give the male the benefit of the doubt and merely watch its actions. For now.

The multi-limbed woman, Jet truly had no strong opinion upon, however... the strength of the purple woman's desire for self-preservation put Jet at ill ease and at full appreciation as well. On one hand, self-preservation meant leaving behind the weak and foolish; a survivor. Jet could totally jive with that. But there is also the time when self-preservation treads into the territory of cowardice. Jet tolerated no cowards. None. A fuller interaction and information gathering she needed with this one.

Now as for the trio of 'Wise Men.' Well, as far as Jet was concerned, these 'saviours' did not necessarily need to be trusted. But with such powers and knowledge, Jet felt she had no choice but to follow along with their lead.

<~<★>~>​

To the observatory they went now. It seemed like it floated there; a majestic eye to see and know all. Yet as much glory as any could regard such a structure and its lead up to said structure, Jet could not help but feel even more wary. To be honest, she felt she could trust the 'three Wise Men' more than she could the inhabitant of said observatory. This 'Chaplain' would have answers no doubt. But then again with those answers would come the demands, she surmised.

And so what would Jet compromise to get those answers to get back home... and get back home with this dimensions armoury and firepower?

A low grumble she let out from her chest as she looked over the expressions and reactions of the others as they were lead to the observatory's entrance.

Well, if it meant doing as the multi-limbed woman had done, Jet would do it too. She would leave the others behind if it meant she could win the war on her home planet by bring the secrets and tech from this world into her own.

One more look over she gave to the others. ~Do not get attached. Do not get attached and you will succeed in this mission, girl. Let go. Let die... and let's just go home...

Jet was certain she could abandon them. She nodded once in affirmation to herself. Then golden eyes wavered for a hesrtbeat---

And then they were ushered in and Jet moved with them.

<~~~<★>~~~> ​

 

[Ygor's Revenge]

O'Lantern awkwardly stumbled along with the odd assortment of beings, his cornstalks rustling against the cobblestone road in a long-legged gait, tilting forwards and backwards and from side to side as he went. The scarecrow nearly fell over a few times as he stared with glowing eyes at the buildings around him, his head spinning from left to right as he tried to make out the peculiar and exotic construction. They were all beautiful in their own way, as different as they were. All were colored white, which must have been the colors, or well, color, of the kingdom. It was the color worn by their guide Heracles, as well as his comrades. And even now, O'Lantern saw even more beings in white marching down the otherwise empty roads. The scarecrow put a thoughtful hand to the lower half of his mouth. They were of every shape and size, as varied as the buildings, and marched together as soldiers did. Heracles pointed out to the larger, more congruent of these figures, calling them CAESARS.

O'Lantern came to a teetering halt for just a moment, his carved eyes brightening as he realized that the towering soldiers weren't just armored in metal, but were made of metal themselves. They moved and acted just as though they were alive, but weren't made of flesh and blood and bones and all the other squiggly bits Malagigi said made up a living thing. O'Lantern looked back ahead, mouth open to question Heracles about who had made the Caesars, but the four-legged knight was already halfway down the street. The scarecrow began tottering along again, wondering if he would get a chance to meet one of these other beings that were like him.

 

[Ragamoofin]

As concerning as the sky's state was, what really got under Anselle's skin was the sound of a fight behind them. He did, however, get some comfort from the fact that he didn't see either the wizard that stayed or the creature he was meant to deal with. If he wasn't trying to escape as they were, all seemed to be going in his favor. Good, it wouldn't had settled well on his conscious if he turned up dead because they left him. Anyone who could cast spells at a moment's notice had to have a few battles under their belt - or in the wizard's case, robe.

Anselle kept quiet for the most part, taking in as much as the city as he could while remaining behind the warrior. He was sure they'd see the city again soon, but that didn't stop the eagerness in his spirit from attempting to commit every single inch of the place to memory. Structurally, he'd never seen anything like it. The realm was truly a marvel, as initially frightening as it was to him. The hoards of white clad entities was yet another surprising touch to the world, uniform and not quite person-like.

Perhaps they were, under their armor, merely a lifeform Anselle hadn't seen before. The smooths in their group had been an experience all their own, who knew what the soldiers were? Whatever they were, they were more like a legion than Anselle expected. Every street, every building seemed guarded by them, their presence overwhelming and more than a bit terrifying as they stood ready for - well, anything.

As much fear they put in Anselle's already blood, he couldn't help but admire their weapons, still looking like elongated forks to him. Just like the city, he couldn't recall seeing anything similar to them in his world. Could they'd been a work of this realm exclusively? Only time would tell, but he wished he could just get his hands on one, just for a moment so he could get a - uh, better feel for it.

Speaking of that - Anselle wondered if that was having the same issue as his magic. He hoped not, especially now that there were things he wanted to break down and figure out. It hadn't failed him yet, he could only cross his fingers and wish for the best.

Upon their final turn, a building came into focus, surrounded by plants that made Anselle think of home and architecture that was just as stunning as the city. Anselle breathed a sigh of relief. They'd made it, all without dying by any darklings. "At last," he whispered to himself, nerves on edge at the presence of the guards around the place. "Are they...going to let us through?"

 

[Moogle-Girl]

Kelkov couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy seeing the white-robes fling spells at the creature so effortlessly, while he couldn't even shoot off a few sparks without wanting to collapse. Magic was an intrinsic part of who he was -- it was the same for many residents of his universe, he suspected -- so having it taken away from him was like losing the ability to speak. He hadn't thought about it on the beach, but now that they were away from that thing, he was able to focus on something besides the nagging fear that its presence seemed to bring. He really could not wait to get home.

As they all walked through the city, that feeling of oppression only grew. Armed guards lined the streets, staring the group down as they passed. There weren't even any normal citizens walking around. Everything was plain and white, seemingly stripped of creativity. It was like a futuristic dystopia. Even Heracles seemed fearful of the soldiers: a troubling thought. At least Kelkov could file away the name "Gadreel" for future twisting into a nickname.

Heracles stopped at the Observatory, an apparent miracle of architecture. Had he been there for a pleasure visit, Kelkov might have paused to appreciate the alien impossibility of it, but he had more important things on his mind. That was where the Chaplain lived, huh? "Good," he said, cutting ahead of their four-legged guide and headed straight for the entrance. "I've got some words for him."

 

[Jack Robinson]

GM POST

The CAESAR units do not make a move as you approach the gate. It's almost as if they've been expecting you. The pearly gates swing open, and you enter the Observatory grounds. Heracles looks almost nervous, which does little to abate your feelings about meeting this mysterious Chaplain.

You reach the main building of the Observatory, and once you do, the doors open by themselves. Heracles turns around, and steps aside.

"I can't go in," he explains, "Only members of the Wizened may enter the Observatory, or if the Chaplain explicitly calls for me. And he hasn't. But you can go on in. Be on your best behavior. Speak politely, let him address you first...and don't try anything magic. It won't work, you'll look stupid, and he'll probably kill you."

Heracles ushers you inside, still not daring to step foot inside the Observatory. "Good luck," he mumbles, and the doors slam shut.

You feel as if you're trespassing. The main room is circular, with mosaics painted on the walls and white pillars supporting the ceiling. Directly across from you is a pulpit. In the middle of the room is a massive round black stone with green etchings on it that looks extremely familiar. About two dozen CAESAR units stand around the room.

But mostly, you notice the group of individuals standing around the pulpit. One is a massive floating head, with no arms or limbs, or even body. The head looks infantile in nature, and Kelkov recognizes it as the head of a human baby. Another is a grey, skinny humanoid with a bulbous head and orange eyes. Yet another is simply a mass of tentacles and eyes on stalks. The others are a strange assortment of creatures you've never seen before, about two dozen of them. They carry themselves as people of great intellect and pride. One of them is an individual in all white, with a mask over his face, and a tall white hat. He stands at the pulpit, and he radiates an energy disturbingly similar to that of the darkness outside. A black cross is emblazoned on his chest. The others stand a good five feet away from him.

"Children," he says, in a hushed tone, yet one that echoes all throughout the room, "You have finally arrived. Welcome home. Welcome to the city of New Babylon. I am the Chaplain. And I expect that you have many, many questions for me. Please, take a seat."

A moment later, all of you are sitting perhaps ten feet from the Chaplain, in chairs that are perfectly comfortable for you. Jet ends up in a large cat bed, of course.

The Chaplain steps away from his pulpit, and walks closer toward you. The chairs automatically scoot back to ensure you are at all times ten feet away from him. The group of alien individuals around the Chaplain shuffle forward slowly, staying close, yet not too close.

"Drinks?" the Chaplain asks.

Your favorite drink appears in your hands.

"Now then, go ahead and ask me anything you desire. If it is in my best interest...well, I shall answer it. I owe you that much, don't I? After all, you're all about to do something very helpful for me."

 

[Moogle-Girl]

The more Kelkov heard about this Chaplain guy, the less he liked him. Still, he didn't believe in risking his life on rebellion alone, so he grit his teeth and resolved to play by the Chaplain's rules as much as possible, until it became clear that he wouldn't be getting home otherwise.

The alien figures, which Kelkov assumed were the Chaplain's right-hand... things, creeped him the hell out. And then there was the Chaplain himself. Staring at him twisted a knot in Kelkov's stomach. It was the same feeling he got when being too close to Anlee. Even when he was promptly seated in the comfiest chair with the best balance of soft and firm he'd ever sat in, he found it hard to relax. The chair moving on its own only worsened the anxiety clawing at his insides. And then there was the drink appearing in his hand; there was no mistaking the smell. How the hell did these wack-jobs know that a bitter orange cocktail was his favorite drink? It couldn't exactly be pegged as a lucky guess.

Kelkov no longer cared about making a good first impression. He was being swung around by some giant conspiracy, and he wasn't about to go quietly. "Yeah, I got questions, here's a small selection," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "Where are we? How do we get home? And what makes you think we're going to help you?"

 

[Ragamoofin]

Moving so close to the still guards was not something that invoked feeling of comfort in Anselle; it was having quite the opposite effect, even as they stepped aside and let them through the gates, Anselle kept near to their guide as they entered. A nervous bleat shuddered into a meek chuckle.

"Thank you kindly!" Anselle all but squeaked as he soared through the gates, eyes on the bizarre weapons they wielded. Really, just what were those things? If magic was all but impossible to properly use in the realm, they couldn't had been anything like a wand. Perhaps the weapons themselves had a power source, rather than the wielder's own. Curious, very curious.

On the note of things working under their own power, the observatory's doors swung open without anyone behind them. That was the least of Anselle's concerns, their guide's - obedience to this Chaplain figure was downright sad. Anselle gave the warrior a look that showed just how deep that sadness went, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. Was the Chaplain the master of the warrior, or the realm itself?

Waving at the warrior's wish of luck, Anselle gave him a wave as the doors shut. "I'm sure we'll need it," he muttered at the doors. He was having second thoughts about the place, and the sensation in the air wasn't making matters any better. Outside, the air had a definite charge to it, a force Anselle didn't feel an affinity. Why was that? The Chaplain had the answers, things were too crazy to be in the dark for much longer.

At least, that's what he thought. The next few minutes were a mad blur. There was a floating head, one of smooth, young looking features. Another smooth, only with grayed flesh. Then there was the mess of tentacles, and the white clad person in the middle of them all. Anselle breathed deeply, senses picking up on the sheer force the person contained. There was no mistaking it, this was the Chaplain.

The chairs came, and Anselle sat, cup of lemon water in hand; his favorite drink, something a being he never met shouldn't know.

Raising his hand, Anselle seemed eager for the Chaplain's attention.

"Uh, hi. Still a bit out of the loop here, but I can't help but pick up on some seriously weird energy around this place. It's not mana, and I think I speak for-" Anselle looked to Jet, gaze tearing away from her at once. "All of us when I say that our magic isn't working right." Taking a sip from his cup, Anselle lowered it and pointed to the black stone in the room. "Also, why is that a huge version of the stone I found?"

 

[Ygor's Revenge]

O'Lantern gave a thoughtful nod to Heracles as the warrior offered them his advice and blessing, the scarecrow's body rattling and squeaking as he gave a humble bow.

"Thank you, sir, it has been an honor to travel with you." The words were barely out of his mouth before the great door slammed shut, sealing the knight outside of the magnificent building. O'Lantern turned to face the inner chamber and joined his fellow travelers in gawking at the strange scene within. Bizarre and wondrous beings filled the room, and like the ones he'd met on the beach all were as different as the next. The scarecrow tried his hardest to move as gracefully as he could. These beings, whether they were Faeries or Demons or Hobgoblins, must have been of great importance, and as Malagigi's creation it was his duty to make the best possible impression of his master.

O'Lantern's wide eyes fixated on the tall, white-garbed figure that stepped forward from the strange menagerie. Even O'Lantern's body, crude and rudimentary as it was, could feel a power radiate from him. He was a sorcerer, a terribly powerful one, and he carried himself like a king--no, an Emperor. He spoke, his regal voiced hushed, yet all could hear him. He introduced himself as the Chaplain, the one spoken of by Heracles and his fellow Knights. He welcomed them, offering them seats and drinks, and O'Lantern suddenly found himself in a chair with a glass of water in his wooden hand.

The scarecrow glanced down at the glass, suddenly caught in a dilemma. He didn't drink or eat like people made of flesh. But he couldn't bring himself to refuse the Chaplain's generosity. It would embarrass Malagigi to act so churlish before someone so important. O'Lantern glanced from side to side, taking note of Kelkov and the Satyr. Very quietly, the scarecrow lifted the glass to his jagged mouth and tilted it. Water splashed and trickled between each of his carved teeth, draining down the hole through which his head attached to his broomstick body, and landed in the wooden bucket that made his thorax. From there it continued to seep out through the cracks and knotholes all over the rest of his body.

O'Lantern folded his hands and looked back to the Chaplain. Going from the questions asked by Kelkov and the Satyr, now was the time for answers. He waited patiently until the other two were finished, and then meekly raised a wooden arm.

"Excuse me, sir, I would be happy to assist you in any way I can, but may I ask what will happen to my master while I'm gone? I've many responsibilities that need tending to."

 

[Boo Girlie BoomBoom]

no-lightbox

~Jet~

Subject PO-001994

<~~~<★>~~~> ​

It would have seemed as if the panther cared not for the decor, sentries, and occupants of the inner receiving room upon watching her cooly follow in with the others. That and without so much as a single hesitation did she lie upon the biggest cat bed she had ever seen. That and there was that half-lidded stare she gave with when drinks were served. And so there she remained, resting her head upon her massive paws when drinks were served.

Oh, but she did care all right. For one thing, she was out of phase and that was most unsettling and needed to be dealt with poste-haste. And, for another thing, she did not feel like a welcome guest here. No, she felt like a conscriptee at best... but the word:' black-balled' felt like a more suitable description.

Jet had checked out the decor and all the 'alien' life forms here; exotic and yet all too familiar. In all her years as a good little soldier, she knew people in power and how they held themselves and their surroundings. Proud victors for certain, but she needed a closer combing to figure out just exactly who were the ones that were just like Jet and her cohorts here; the unsuspecting victims turned into useful tools. In other words: the minions.

She had taken a more detailed inspection of the CESAR units now that she was basically within a whisker's length away from them. And that feeling of conscriptee slipped a bit lower on the rungs. Jet now felt like the terms of contractual agreement were not: 'serve me or serve time.' No, she now felt like the terms were: 'serve me well or just serve till the end of time.' But at least she could find consolation in the fact that perhaps she was 'chosen' and not just a random find. Maybe.

And then that stone. That bloody stone at the centre of the pulpit. For some reason the panther felt less wary of the Chaplain now. Upon gazing at the stone, that bloody stone, in person now (well... as 'in person' as an out of phase shifting panther could be), she found she trusted that thing less than the presiding white-clad, masked being.

Others of her cohort had blurted out their questions and yet, even after nodding at Kekov's questions, still Jet faltered. Invoking her ability to Commune with Kelkov earlier had exhausted her and as a result, she was concerned that she may black out by Communing here. After rolling her eyes at the goat boys comments about 'speaking for them' ha-ha, she summoned up her calm and her mettle as the pumpkin-head toy spoke. She had to keep her questions brief and if they were properly Communed telepathically she would have to save her strength for follow up ones.

<<Exactly how you want us to help? Not Jet home. Why say 'welcome home?' What is dancing beach daemon?>>

She had rose up and sat upon her haunches, chin up, eyes forward in due respect but there was no way she would take from her drink even though it was made of aether wisps and spirit songs; her favourite elixir in this form. There was one truism she learned and held onto after experiencing meetings of reps from the three-sided war back on her home planet; never accept a drink given to you by a blood-sucker.

<~~~<★>~~~> ​