King Cosmos

Deleted

Take a look at the CS template; it has been updated, just as I threatened to.

@Dead Cruiser

Sorry for the wait, but I've added those extra sections to Matteo's sheet.

RATTLECHOMP

By the time Sasha had managed to steady her hands, the shadow was already gone; as usual, the effects of pulling the trigger was almost instantaneous, but Sasha wasn’t sure if it was because the Rue had been killed by whatever it was she had done or if it had simply fled. In the forest, when she was out hunting, the mere act of drawing her weapon was usually enough to send those creatures running; ever since she had demonstrated its abilities that first time at least. The Rue had never been willing to test their luck against her a second time, but truthfully, Sasha wasn’t sure why that was the case or what she would do if she ran into a Rue that wasn’t so easily dealt with.

Now that the tracks were clear, the train pulled up to the station and stopped in front of them. Surprisingly, Yiya didn’t seem to realise that the shadow had been there at all, didn’t understand why she and the other girls had reacted as they had; to her, they seemed like silly children scared of the approaching train. It made her feel chastised, embarrassed as she slipped her father’s gun back into its holster, even though she knew she had not been in the wrong. She kept her head down as she grabbed her belongings, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and hefting the rifle bag up into place, and quietly followed the old woman and her machine into the warded and protected train.

She barely noticed the man join their party, more focused on looking small and unnoticeable.

Once on board one of the other girls spoke to her, asking about her revolver. It was the other girl that had brought a gun with her, Toni; Sasha had wondered if hers was the same, if it could also scare off the shadows, but judging by their question it was not. “No, it’s just my dad’s old gun… I’m… I guess… I’m the one that’s not normal.”

She’d never questioned it. Why could the revolver hurt them, or scare them? Her father couldn’t see the shadows. Or at least, when they were hunting together and she saw them and pointed towards them, he never looked their way and just told her to ignore them. Sasha never saw him acknowledge their presence, so she just assumed he couldn’t see them. He would carry the revolver with him on those hunts, but he kept it loaded and told her it was in case they ran into poachers. She never saw him use it, on the Rue, an animal or otherwise. It was just a normal gun.

The people who could see the Rue sometimes had special abilities, so she had heard. Sasha just figured that this was hers. It had nothing to do with the revolver. Maybe it didn’t have to be this revolver and she could do the same with Toni’s. Maybe she didn’t need a gun at all. She didn’t know the answer to that.

To be honest, Sasha didn’t feel much like questioning it either. It worked; that was all she needed to know. Now was the time for different questions and Yiya would be the one answering them, but before that…

“Um… Yiya? You can’t see the Rue, can you?” The answer to that seemed obvious, but it was surprising nonetheless. She had just assumed that the old lady seeking a cure to her villages plight, who had come all of this way to find a plant to get rid of the Rue, would have some way of avoiding them until now. But she didn’t, which just made their job as her guide more difficult. It would mean she was more defenceless against the shadows than Sasha had assumed and would need more protection, more guidance. And it meant that Sasha and the others needed to be taken seriously.

Being taken seriously was not something Sasha was good at.

The young and small girl just didn’t command any presence. Even as a guide to the woods, a service for which people knew she was an expert, a veteran, there would always be hunters who saw her and dismissed her. They would ignore her warnings and her advice and would come back from the woods empty handed, if lucky, or injured, if not.

Sasha placed a hand over the holster at her waist. “When you see me draw this gun… it means there is a Rue nearby. That’s the only time… the only reason I’ll ever draw it.” She never kept it loaded. She had never pointed it at another person, or even at an animal, not even as a threat. It was a keepsake and nothing more. At least… at first it had been.

“I… we… need you to trust us. If we say run… run. If we… say hide, then hide. If you see me… shooting at nothing… there was a reason for it.” Sasha’s voice faltered, suddenly realising how defensive she was sounding and feeling embarrassed. “Just… you hired us because of the Rue. So… trust us.”

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

I think you should try to catch the elusive @King Cosmos about that.

@Quartz

Sorry. I've been ill the past couple days and haven't kept up with any guild stuff.

But yes, @Dragonfly 9, feel free to have Crow be the first one to meet up with Gideon. I've kind of just been waiting for people to finish their own things and show up.

RATTLECHOMP

I'll claim the next post then.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Wasn't sure how to work this into the post, so I'll explain it here. Akeno was supposed to be speaking Japanese before she started eating, saying the standard 'itadakimasu' thing, but the Isekai auto-translate made it come out as English.

I'm working on the assumption that everyone is speaking in whatever way is normal for them, which I think is still English for everyone except Esfir, and it just gets understood by everyone who hears it.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Akeno

The Elwet tasted better than she had expected. The smell coming from the bird as it had been cooking as already assuaged most of her concerns, but Akeno had definitely still been expecting it to taste worse than it did. Honestly, aside from a slightly off earthy flavour that made her feel like what she was eating was a little unclean, it wasn’t bad.

More worrying than the taste was the strange sensation that had begun in her stomach as she continued to eat; something in her gut began to roil, the feeling somewhere between an involuntary clench and a flex of some kind of muscle deep in her abdomen. It was more than a little disconcerting and Akeno was initially afraid that she was having some kind of reaction to eating the strange creature, but once she began to experience these waves of sensory information and memories that were not her own she caught on to what was happening.

Sharp horns and a pointed beak digging into flesh.

Heat washing over her face as she breathed fire from her mouth.

A murderously intense gaze, staring down her opponent.

This was her skill; the skill of all Orcs in this world. The ability to gain the powers of whatever they ate. Akeno hadn’t expected it to be a physical thing, but apparently it was and if it was going to feel like this every time she ate something, she would have to get used to it.

Deliberating as she continued to eat, Akeno eventually decided to choose the [Fire Bolt] skill. The skewer thing might be useful in close combat, alongside her karate, but she didn’t exactly have any claws or horns to work with; though she couldn’t discount the fact that she might grow them on taking the skill. Murderous Gaze was interesting; if it had the effect of paralysing whatever saw it in fear or scaring it away like she thought, then it would be useful for avoiding dangerous situations, but she couldn’t be certain of what it did or how effective it would be.

Fire was fire though. It was simple to understand and would give her an extra avenue of attack. Plus, what kind of martial artist would she be if she turned down the option of getting her own Hadouken or Sonic Boom equivalent?

Finishing up, Akeno threw the remains of her food onto a pile with the rest of the bones and stood up to stretch. Lazash watched her as she did and asked her a question about where she was from. “Did the Japanese give it away? I’m from Miami, but my parents are both from Tokyo. I’ve never been there myself, but I know the language.” It was all she spoke at home after all; her mom had never put much effort into learning English, even after living in America for as long as she had and in spite of the fact that her husband had been fluent even before leaving Japan. Her stubbornness about it always annoyed Akeno as a child, since it meant she had to learn twice as many words and remember to switch between the two all the time; she recalled it being one of the first things she had rebelled about as a child, though it had lasted long.

Akeno appreciated being bilingual now. Even if it wasn’t exactly useful or come up very often outside her family, it was just a nice skill to have. Or had been, before dying and being reborn in a place where the language and the country it came from no longer existed.

“What about you?”

@Zeroth@Crusader Lord@Kazemitsu@ERode

The Hunt, A Modern Fantasy Smorgasbord RP

Morgana Faith

There was no words, no verbal indication that the Roggenwolf had accepted the contract she put before it, but the moment it did was unmistakeable. The connection of mana that the witch had been maintaining between them suddenly pulled tight; no, that wasn’t quite right, it tightened. Like a loosely woven thread had instantly been twisted into a strong cord and the bond between them came into being all at once.

It was a strange feeling. A kind of awareness of your own body that was not of your own body but someone else’s; a sense that was both distant and not at the same time. How strange.

The experience was a novelty, but whatever the case Morgana could now feel the Roggenwolf’s presence through the connection. A connection that she could tell would not be easily broken without them both experiencing some backlash; there was a weight to, a severity, that spoke to the importance of the contract they had both entered into, despite how insignificant it was intended to be.

Why? Who or what was the arbiter of these contracts? The gods? Morgana had no sworn faith, which should have made such things weaker for her, but all studies has shown that binding contracts were equally effective regardless of the spiritual beliefs or even divine nature of the participants involved. The spirits themselves? To an extent. It was well known that entering into an agreement with a spirit, full-bloodied Fae or other supernatural was more dangerous than entering one with a more mundane partner, but those rules seemed separate to the contact itself and spirits needed to be equally careful not to fall foul of them. Then, was it simply the nature of swearing oaths itself? A collective belief among all beings that words mattered, promises mattered, and to break them was to be deserving of punishment?

Belief could shape magic. Belief could make a cheaply made staff of modern materials perform almost as well as an old, weathered staff of lightning-struck oak if the user believed the former to be the latter. The shattering of the moon had broken many older traditions of lunar magic not because the moon was a source of power, as nothing had ever proven that to be true, but because the practitioners believed their magic should no longer work. These were known phenomena, but for collective belief to create an effect from scratch? To make binding a contract sworn between two individuals just because Morgana had spoken with intent and add a little mana to the mix?

It was old magic, ancient magic, and frustratingly, something neither she nor any other researcher had managed to be able to explain.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Letting out a sigh, Morgana raised a finger to her chin and tried to think of something suitably inconsequential she could ask the spirit to perform in order to fulfil their contract. “…sit.”

The oversized, canine-shaped spirit seemed to hesitate for a moment and Morgana could have sworn she saw bewilderment flash across its decidedly inhuman face before it bent its hind legs and sat on the ground.

“Stand.”

The Roggenwolf stood.

“Turn around.”

The circle restricted their movement somewhat, but there was enough space for the spirit to walk in a small circle within the enclosure.

“That should be enough. The terms of the contract have been fulfilled; I release you.” As suddenly as it has appeared, the cord connecting Morgana to the spirit was gone, leaving no more of a trace behind than the Roggenwolf itself, which had also vanished.

Raising a hand, Morgana formed a ring with her index finger and her thumb and peered through the completed circle to examine the magical energies within her seal. A cursory examination showed no signs of the spirits presence, only that of the seal itself. She let he hand fall to her side, then raised her other hand and snapped her fingers; the subtle glow of the seal dimmed and disappeared, leaving behind only lines on the concrete like chalk. Even that was already starting to fade.

Turning around, Morgana regarded the Madeleine and Xaviron with impatience. “Well, I think all of our business here is done. What was it we were doing before this distraction?”

@Martian@Kumbaris

Deleted

Science!

In The Name Of Progress

Name: Matteo Baresi

Epithets: Maestro of Science (Former), Empire of One, World Eater

Age: 300ish

Home-Plane: The Centori Nebula. A plane of logic and reason, defined by its observable laws and populated by people who wish to study and understand these laws; in other words, it is a plane utterly devoid of magic, the supernatural and mysticism. There are no ancient gods, no greater powers, no deep magics; just science and those who pursue it.

It is large and sparsely populated; great expanses of empty space interrupted occasionally by a pinprick of light or a mote of celestial dust. Some of these motes host life forms, both complex and simple, along with all of their works; fewer motes now than there once were, ever since Matteo started his search.

Description: Matteo has always had a fairly unassuming look about him. He is of average height for a male of his age, with a build that is unremarkable; he has black hair and brown eyes, both fairly common traits and is decently attractive, but certainly not enough to turn heads. In terms of clothing he tends to dress smartly but not extravagantly and nothing about his clothing or his accessories particularly make him stand out, aside from his lab coat. Were it not for his genius, people likely wouldn’t have paid any attention to him at all.

His personality is similarly bland; polite when he needs to be, friendly when he wants to be. Matteo is the type of person who no one particularly dislikes; able to navigate social situations well enough to at least leave a positive is forgettable impression on people. However, that is about as deep as he gets; though no one dislikes him, no one particularly likes him either. In fact, if asked most people would struggle to really say anything about Matteo at all beyond “he’s nice” or “he’s friendly”. When speaking to people he always asks about them, prompts them to carry the conversation, but never reveals anything about himself. He’s like that with everyone, no matter who they are or how they treat him or what their reputation is, conversations with him are always the same; eerily similar and deceptively shallow.

Like he’s just following a script, or like he sees everyone as being indistinguishable from each other.

Backstory: In a civilisation where logic and the pursuit of knowledge and understanding are regarded above all else, those professions that put you at the forefront of discovery and exploration are the most revered and coveted. From the days where explorers and sailors would chart the unknown parts of the world, to the age of space exploration when people would charts the stars themselves. From chemists discovering and naming new elements, to scientists testing the limits of universal forces and seeing how far they’ll bend. All are respected for their noble endeavours.

Once, Matteo was respected as such; a scientist and an inventor working alongside dozens of others in a laboratory owned and run by one of the largest corporations in one of the most prosperous nations. At first that’s all he was, a single mind among many, but it didn’t take long for his genius to be recognised and for his exceptional work to be noticed. He was plucked from among the many and given the opportunity to prove himself, which he did. Again and again. His inventions dazzled, his discoveries awed and he himself was revered as a savant. Before too long, his was a household name and Matteo was lauded as the man who would usher in a new age of prosperity, not just for his nation but for the whole world.

The Maestro of Science.

But for Matteo such attention was… inconvenient.

The money and resources his station granted him were appreciated, even necessary for the kind of research he wanted to undertake, but the demands on his attention were not. Everyone wanted to speak with him, everyone wanted to know what he was working on, everyone had priorities that they wanted him to focus on. Scientists working on supposedly important projects would require his assistance, generals would ask him to waste time designing weapons in the interests of national security, politicians would burden him with completing vanity projects they could take credit for and Matteo could find a singular moment to himself on which to focus on what was truly important.

They had to go.

All of these… obstacles, in his path. These people who would call him a genius and then question how he chose to devote his time. These inconsequential things who scurried about underfoot and got in his way. Do they not understand what he trying to accomplish? Do they not realise that every insipid invention he ever made was just a by-product of his true work? Every discovery merely a single step towards the final and not the huge breakthroughs they thought they were?

They had to go.

Destroying his world was surprisingly easy. He had been asked to create weapons and that was what he did, though far beyond their expectations. They were unprepared for his sudden aggressive attack, striking at them with weapons they had denied themselves out of fear and with technology far beyond what any nation or army on his world was capable of. Cities fell, one after another. Whole countries were consumed, depleted of resources and used to feed his conquest. In almost no time at all, Matteo had silenced his world and gotten rid of all of the obstacles in his path.

Then, he turned his attention to the stars.

 
Shard: A curious thing, this Shard. It is plain in appearance, little more than an orb small enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand, but Matteo cannot for the life of him begin to determine its material make-up nor its origin. Unlike almost everything else that has crossed his path, it cannot be broken down by his Nano machines and any attempt to discern its age inform him that it is as old as the known universe. In fact, Matteo has the strangest feeling that it is exactly as old as the known universe.

But the most curious thing of all is the fact that it seems to be emanating a kind of signal. A type of energy signature quite unlike anything else he had come across. A signal which, somehow, seems to be leading him… he hardly has the words to describe it, but, through the universe to something beyond it.

This requires further study.

Powers:
Nano machines – Miniscule drones, barely large enough for the eye to see, programmed to be capable of following commands, break down matter and construct almost anything the controller can imagine, including other Nano machines. There initial creation was met with much enthusiasm, but early applications made it clear how easily such technology could be used for destructive means and their construction and use where heavily restricted; built in lifespans of only a few hours, the inability to replicate and a mandatory weakness to electro-magnetic fields were all instituted. Such weaknesses are not present in the machines that Matteo developed for his own purposes, as evidenced by their ability to quickly subjugate entire cities in hours. The only defence his world had against Nano machines was other Nano machines, but their neutered versions were no match for his own.

Longevity – For a long time, it was believed that if mankind ever managed to escape the chains of death it would be through transhumanism; unlocking the ability to digitise the soul, or replace the person with the machine without sacrificing the self. However Matteo found another way, one less fraught with controversy and discussions on the nature of humanity. Through the use of specialised Nano machines he is able to prevent the cellular breakdown that comes with old age, the process by which the cells naturally produced by the body to replace themselves have shorter and shorter lifespans over time; he put a stop to the slow deterioration that comes with growing old. Entropy, defeated. Because of this, Matteo is as young now as he was when he first made the discovery; he is somewhere in his late twenties and has been for around 300 years. This same discovery also keeps him healthy, free of disease and toxins and allows him to heal from injuries, so long as they are not fatal, rapidly. Eternal youth. Immortality, of a sort.

Folding space – The ability to make space smaller or larger, either compressing it in on itself, effectively shortening the distance between two space, or expanding it, to make something “larger on the inside than it looks on the outside” as one once succinctly put it. Though in this case the thing that is “larger on the inside” can just be a random spot of open air; it does not need to be an enclosed space. Arguably Matteo’s greatest invention; the ability to warp the dimensions of space itself. It was this discovery that allowed him to finally make a start on his plans to quantify the known universe, the capacity to compress space allowing him to make even the distance between stars something that can be crossed in a single step, while the ability to expand space allowed him to bring as much equipment with him as he deemed appropriate. Or at least enough Nano machines to make whatever he didn’t foresee needing.

Assets: For the purposes or warfare, Matteo’s Nano machines are often enough by themselves and a standing army is not necessary. He technically still possesses the resources of the armies who stood in his way, but with no one to use them and being inferior to his swarm regardless, he does not use them.

For the purposes of research and furthering his goals, Matteo has constructed laboratories, research centres and manufacturing plants on most of the planets he has conquered; the latter are used to supply the former as well as create more Nano machines, while the former allow him to delegate some of his work to the former citizens of his subjugated worlds. Ideally he would perform all research himself, but unfortunately he is just one man. Would that he could clone himself, but even he realised that would be a disastrous idea.

For the purposes of exploration, Matteo had constructed great fleets of ships capable of interstellar travel. Despite the claims of him being to step between worlds with his technology, the reality is more mundane; he needs ships, vessels filled with Nano machines, supplies and materials to move between worlds, though his technology to fold space means he can effectively travel at faster than light speeds to do so. These ships range from simple empty shells filled with whatever inorganic matter he needs to move from point A to point B, to fully furnished mobile research labs complete with living quarters for hundreds, if not thousands of people. Then there are, of course, the warships; huge dreadnaughts and battleships, swift cruisers and sleek corsairs, all supported by swarms of fighter craft harkening back to a time when humanity was sailing the seas and not the stars and the largest vessels they could construct were those meant to float on water. Nano machines are ill suited to space warfare due to the distances involved, so Matteo must rely on more archaic weaponry instead; mass-based weaponry firing solid projectiles or explosives through the use of electromagnetism or burning fuel. Energy based weapons are too power hungry to be efficient and Matteo has yet to dedicate time to solving that problem; there’s no reason to, when he has enough resources at his disposal to simply drown any resistance in fire and metal.

Gladius: Matteo’s wing of Gladius has, to be expected, been turned into a research lab. However, he is not simply using the space to house another facility studying the minutiae of his own plane; no, this facility is dedicated to studying the nature of Gladius itself. It was a surprise when Matteo discovered that there was someone else who had achieved the feat of expanding space beyond its natural capacity, to make it “larger on the inside than on the outside”, but he has yet to determine how or why.

How interesting.

Deleted

Okay, finally got this done. Decided to go more sci-fi than fantasy this time around, though I see I'm not the only one to do that.

In The Name Of Progress

Name: Matteo Baresi

Epithets: Maestro of Science (Former), Empire of One, World Eater

Age: 300ish

Home-Plane: The Centori Nebula. A plane of logic and reason, defined by its observable laws and populated by people who wish to study and understand these laws; in other words, it is a plane utterly devoid of magic, the supernatural and mysticism. There are no ancient gods, no greater powers, no deep magics; just science and those who pursue it.

It is large and sparsely populated; great expanses of empty space interrupted occasionally by a pinprick of light or a mote of celestial dust. Some of these motes host life forms, both complex and simple, along with all of their works; fewer motes now than there once were, ever since Matteo started his search.

Description: Matteo has always had a fairly unassuming look about him. He is of average height for a male of his age, with a build that is unremarkable; he has black hair and brown eyes, both fairly common traits and is decently attractive, but certainly not enough to turn heads. In terms of clothing he tends to dress smartly but not extravagantly and nothing about his clothing or his accessories particularly make him stand out, aside from his lab coat. Were it not for his genius, people likely wouldn’t have paid any attention to him at all.

His personality is similarly bland; polite when he needs to be, friendly when he wants to be. Matteo is the type of person who no one particularly dislikes; able to navigate social situations well enough to at least leave a positive is forgettable impression on people. However, that is about as deep as he gets; though no one dislikes him, no one particularly likes him either. In fact, if asked most people would struggle to really say anything about Matteo at all beyond “he’s nice” or “he’s friendly”. When speaking to people he always asks about them, prompts them to carry the conversation, but never reveals anything about himself. He’s like that with everyone, no matter who they are or how they treat him or what their reputation is, conversations with him are always the same; eerily similar and deceptively shallow.

Like he’s just following a script, or like he sees everyone as being indistinguishable from each other.

Backstory: In a civilisation where logic and the pursuit of knowledge and understanding are regarded above all else, those professions that put you at the forefront of discovery and exploration are the most revered and coveted. From the days where explorers and sailors would chart the unknown parts of the world, to the age of space exploration when people would charts the stars themselves. From chemists discovering and naming new elements, to scientists testing the limits of universal forces and seeing how far they’ll bend. All are respected for their noble endeavours.

Once, Matteo was respected as such; a scientist and an inventor working alongside dozens of others in a laboratory owned and run by one of the largest corporations in one of the most prosperous nations. At first that’s all he was, a single mind among many, but it didn’t take long for his genius to be recognised and for his exceptional work to be noticed. He was plucked from among the many and given the opportunity to prove himself, which he did. Again and again. His inventions dazzled, his discoveries awed and he himself was revered as a savant. Before too long, his was a household name and Matteo was lauded as the man who would usher in a new age of prosperity, not just for his nation but for the whole world.

The Maestro of Science.

But for Matteo such attention was… inconvenient.

The money and resources his station granted him were appreciated, even necessary for the kind of research he wanted to undertake, but the demands on his attention were not. Everyone wanted to speak with him, everyone wanted to know what he was working on, everyone had priorities that they wanted him to focus on. Scientists working on supposedly important projects would require his assistance, generals would ask him to waste time designing weapons in the interests of national security, politicians would burden him with completing vanity projects they could take credit for and Matteo could find a singular moment to himself on which to focus on what was truly important.

They had to go.

All of these… obstacles, in his path. These people who would call him a genius and then question how he chose to devote his time. These inconsequential things who scurried about underfoot and got in his way. Do they not understand what he trying to accomplish? Do they not realise that every insipid invention he ever made was just a by-product of his true work? Every discovery merely a single step towards the final and not the huge breakthroughs they thought they were?

They had to go.

Destroying his world was surprisingly easy. He had been asked to create weapons and that was what he did, though far beyond their expectations. They were unprepared for his sudden aggressive attack, striking at them with weapons they had denied themselves out of fear and with technology far beyond what any nation or army on his world was capable of. Cities fell, one after another. Whole countries were consumed, depleted of resources and used to feed his conquest. In almost no time at all, Matteo had silenced his world and gotten rid of all of the obstacles in his path.

Then, he turned his attention to the stars.

 
Shard: A curious thing, this Shard. It is plain in appearance, little more than an orb small enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand, but Matteo cannot for the life of him begin to determine its material make-up nor its origin. Unlike almost everything else that has crossed his path, it cannot be broken down by his Nano machines and any attempt to discern its age inform him that it is as old as the known universe. In fact, Matteo has the strangest feeling that it is exactly as old as the known universe.

But the most curious thing of all is the fact that it seems to be emanating a kind of signal. A type of energy signature quite unlike anything else he had come across. A signal which, somehow, seems to be leading him… he hardly has the words to describe it, but, through the universe to something beyond it.

This requires further study.

Powers:
Nano machines – Miniscule drones, barely large enough for the eye to see, programmed to be capable of following commands, break down matter and construct almost anything the controller can imagine, including other Nano machines. There initial creation was met with much enthusiasm, but early applications made it clear how easily such technology could be used for destructive means and their construction and use where heavily restricted; built in lifespans of only a few hours, the inability to replicate and a mandatory weakness to electro-magnetic fields were all instituted. Such weaknesses are not present in the machines that Matteo developed for his own purposes, as evidenced by their ability to quickly subjugate entire cities in hours. The only defence his world had against Nano machines was other Nano machines, but their neutered versions were no match for his own.

Longevity – For a long time, it was believed that if mankind ever managed to escape the chains of death it would be through transhumanism; unlocking the ability to digitise the soul, or replace the person with the machine without sacrificing the self. However Matteo found another way, one less fraught with controversy and discussions on the nature of humanity. Through the use of specialised Nano machines he is able to prevent the cellular breakdown that comes with old age, the process by which the cells naturally produced by the body to replace themselves have shorter and shorter lifespans over time; he put a stop to the slow deterioration that comes with growing old. Entropy, defeated. Because of this, Matteo is as young now as he was when he first made the discovery; he is somewhere in his late twenties and has been for around 300 years. This same discovery also keeps him healthy, free of disease and toxins and allows him to heal from injuries, so long as they are not fatal, rapidly. Eternal youth. Immortality, of a sort.

Folding space – The ability to make space smaller or larger, either compressing it in on itself, effectively shortening the distance between two space, or expanding it, to make something “larger on the inside than it looks on the outside” as one once succinctly put it. Though in this case the thing that is “larger on the inside” can just be a random spot of open air; it does not need to be an enclosed space. Arguably Matteo’s greatest invention; the ability to warp the dimensions of space itself. It was this discovery that allowed him to finally make a start on his plans to quantify the known universe, the capacity to compress space allowing him to make even the distance between stars something that can be crossed in a single step, while the ability to expand space allowed him to bring as much equipment with him as he deemed appropriate. Or at least enough Nano machines to make whatever he didn’t foresee needing.

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

Gideon Fairbright

How could he have missed this?

The cult of their old foe has slunk its way back into the shadows after their god was sealed away, but it wasn’t like it was completely defeated. Some members managed to escape after the final battle and even before that their reach had been wide and deep enough that they had never rooted out all of it. It would have been foolish to think they were all gone, and he hadn’t. Gideon had always anticipated that they would attempt a return someday and had used his position as the adventurers guildmaster to try and pre-empt just that; to keep a finger on the pulse of the nation, to be the first one to hear word of odd goings on and mysterious figures, to be able to send parties of adventurers to chase back the shadows when they emerged.

And yet, he hadn’t seen this coming.

A member of the cult had not only attacked him, but had done so in his very office, within his own guildhall; it was an embarrassment and he felt ashamed for letting his guard down so much. Who knows how much else he had missed? How much he hadn’t seen. How much ground had they made while he was looking in all the wrong places?

Rising from his chair, Gideon strode out of his office and onto the landing overlooking the guildhall. The sound of his booted feet was loud in his ears and the wooden board creaked under the weight of his armoured form; ever since the attack, he had taken to wearing his old gear wherever he went and his sword was no longer hanging on the wall like some useless decoration, but was now firmly attached to his hip. He descended the stairs and crossed the main floor of the hall towards the administrative offices, those present turning to watch as he passed as an awkward hush fell over the room.

It was impossible to keep quiet what had happened. The explosion that rocked the walls of his office was one thing, but even before that the intruder had not been quiet with his final words; people over overheard and as adventurers they knew what those words meant. The evil was returning, the legendary foe was not truly defeated, and they were looking to him for… reassurance? Guidance?

So far he had left them wanting.

As he entered the offices at the back of the first floor, the clerks and administrators who kept the place running did not stop and stare as others had. They were far too busy for that and wholly unimpressed by his status as a hero to be star struck besides; they were not adventurers, they were civilians and though he was technically their boss they would not interrupt their work just because he had entered a room.

“Have those letters I requested been sent out?”

They had been. Those with definite addresses and destinations had been carried out via courier as soon as they were written, sealed with the guilds emblem and sent with as much haste as possible. Those whose destinations were unknown or whose destinations were too treacherous for regular mail had been handed to adventuring parties heading that direction to deliver instead; they were bound to be slow, but they were also more likely to succeed, despite the delay.

“Good. What of the investigation of the intruder? And the reports I requested?”

A stack of parchments were pushed into his hands. Sadly, not as tall as he would have hoped; the investigation of the cultist’s belongings, what was left of them, hadn’t yielded much and further analysis with magic was taking its time. Meanwhile, the guilds records on anything related to cults, cultists or just people wearing robes was disappointingly sparse; in part because he had already aggressively pursued any such leads that he could have since taking up this position. Anything he hadn’t already exhausted was bound to be vague and unhelpful.

“Alright. Have you heard anything from…?”

No. None of his old companions had reached out to him yet. There had been no responses to his letters just yet. No words on whether or not they had been attacked as well, or if any of them were even still alive. Nothing.

Nothing at all.

“Very well. About your business.”

Gideon made the walk back out of the offices, back across the main hall and up the stairs, then back into his own office before closing the door behind him. He sat back at his deck, spread the stack of parchments out before him and got to work.

Oh, how Gideon missed the days where his problems were the kind he could swing a sword at.