Bend of Time - Inactive Projects > Project ZEAL

Story Thread I. Introduction

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Symmetry:
[OOC: Okay. First of all, while I assume most are familiar with the concept already, all posts in this thread should be "in character". Plot discussion belongs elsewhere; this thread is solely for story posts. If you absolutely need to say something out of character, denote it by "OOC" at the start of your post.

This thread is the very beginning of the ZEAL project. Here, you introduce your character(s) and are expected to get them somehow to the End of Time to meet with Gaspar. (If they are Keystonian or will be fighting on its side.)

We're still formulating the Toma subplot. This exists so everyone can go ahead and get to the point where they're ready to go in the meantime. Don't feel as if you have to rush and post something here, but don't take an eternity, either.]

ZeaLitY:
Scene 1 - A Dream Of Itself

The infinite, white clouds stretched in a far-spanning sea of crested puffs, sailing in an azure sky – the most majestic of days, arriving once a year in grand, sunlit entrance. The gold and white edifices shone brightly in the luminary’s reflection, casting a reflective shimmer that illuminated the verdant, vibrant grass beyond, stirred by a summer breeze loosed from its place in the east to caress and enwrap the shining sights and the hearts of the enlightened peoples within. Truly, the beauty of nature was of such an overwhelming degree that those invigorated by the essence of summer now only sought to lie in repose beneath arboreal shades, and ponder the rare blessing poured from above. Every inhabitant had been permeated and uplifted by the brilliant light, which left no eye without sparkle and recognition of the beauty of the world; and too, beneath the airy reaches, the sea was bathed in luminosity unparalleled, yielding white crests as it stretched to unify with a lighter hue on the far horizon.

With refreshed, groggy eyes, a dreamer adorned with fine purple and blue robes wandered out from an entryway whose inscription read ‘ENHASA,’ and walked to a bench overlooking a grassy cliff; he too had recognized the special qualities of this day, and removed a notepad from within his regal dress. At once, he began composing a poem to venerate the scene of luster; “For I was free to gaze upon and sight / Endless waves below – ripples and creases / Which caressed as dreams the world to blue rest – / For all passions and colors, brighter seem / From vantage of majestic isle in sky.” And upon this note, the few leaves drifting in the wind, and the light breeze itself struck him in the heart of his intellect. His sublime surroundings set forward thinking; he began to wonder if other realms, specifically those of the Earthbound, experienced such fine days – even by their relatively low standard of living – and dreamt of unceasing splendor. Ascending higher in thought, he considered if other, gloried civilizations such as Zeal on faraway celestial bodies were experiencing beauty too; whether they also delighted in the visitations of the sun, relaxed in the sonata of the rain, and quietly dreamt in the cradling rays of starlight. At this length, he stretched, and left his poem unfinished – for its subject matter had at last transcended his skill.

He was correct, but this lay beyond his knowledge, for he could not fathom the unlimited gatherings of peoples across the universe, or the joys they had – and even yet, he could not know of the other shades of Zeal that danced in the universal spectrum; the parallel worlds that ran above and beneath him, never touching, both equal and varied in their qualities and beauty. Some stemmed from a common root occurrence found in some, and absent in others – the finding of a magic gem to prolong life – a civil war to end all strife – the deaths of kings, and other royal things, events ranged across the worlds, each deciding their history and divergence. The poet’s king, and probably himself, had impact in these other dimensions of Zeal; the rise of a mad queen, and the fall of the civilization might have all been avoided if that man had lived – and in regions beyond one's senses and wildest fathoms, the royalty of Zeal did survive a tumultuous time, and the king of the land, twelve-thousand years before the next great reign of lords over humanity, lived – ensuring the sustenance of his own realm, and its journey through time – its subjugation of the crimson beast of the asthenosphere – its developments in the power of magic – and its survival into the modern age, yielding a kingdom which, in the dreamer’s world, had existed in ever-expanding enlightenment thirteen thousand years beyond his own epoch. He caught a glimpse of this everlasting Zeal, and passed to a shallow sleep.

~ ~ ~

Symmetry:
Scene 2 - Najran Classroom.

Naomi sat in a classroom desk with her eyes fixated on the clock that hung on the wall to her right, her intense gaze burning a hole through the glass that separated the timepiece’s slow-moving arms from the outside world. Although she had no great desire to study in the school of temporal magic, the struggling student wished she could simply fast forward herself through time every afternoon from two o’clock to four, the period occupied by the dreaded class that was Introduction to Enchantment, 1101.

Ten more minutes… Only ten more minutes! Hurry up, minutes! Pass like you’ve never passed before! Nine! Only nine more minutes… Unfortunately for Naomi, she was a poor cheerleader; the more she exhorted the clock onward, the slower it seemed to move. Come on! Six minutes, still? There were ten minutes left half an hour ago! Clearly, time was indeed relative. While temporal theorists continued to debate the name of space-time, Naomi had confirmed a truth that proved to be source of great agony. For every class period, as one approaches the end of the two-hour duration, the last five minutes always extend to effectively double the length of the period. Always, as in, one hundred percent of the time, without failure.

“Miss Maruyama?”

Five minutes!

“Miss Maruyama?”

Thirty two… thirty one… Four and a half minutes!

“Naomi Maruyama! Are you daydreaming in my class again?!”

The student quickly sat up in her chair, losing track of the countdown as she struggled to remember precisely what the topic of discussion had been before she had become lost in her own thoughts. Standing immediately in front of her desk with arms crossed tight enough to cut off blood circulation was the class instructor, Provostia Sessimine, her aunt and caretaker. “No moth – ma’am! I was just momentarily distracted… What was the question again?”

The instructor sighed as she turned away and walked gracefully back to the front of the classroom. “For those of you who were ‘momentarily distracted’, I had inquired if anyone in the audience could explain Kobayashi’s Principle of Semblant Enchantment. Seeing as how no one volunteered to answer my question, I chose you, Miss Maruyama, to explain the concept to the rest of the class. You are familiar with Kobayashi’s Principle, correct?

Naomi stuttered as she tried to bring to memory the contents of what she had studied the night before, but to no avail. While she would immediately realize the theory in question when it was explained, the student could do nothing at the moment but hesitate as the clock counted down the minutes until she was free once more. Naomi merely acted as if the answer was on the tip of her tongue as her classmates all turned to revel in her humiliation. Finally, another girl in the class broke the silence.

“Professoressa, if I may…”

“Please.”

With a smirk on her face, the student continued on. “Kobayashi’s Principle basically claims that by manipulating illusions in conjunction with casting a simple spell, we can stimulate a greater degree of fear within a subject than either component could by itself.” The young woman paused slightly before continuing onward. “Perhaps next time you should reserve questions like that for a competent enchantress who has kept up on her readings.” The rest of the classroom - save Naomi - followed up the comment with snide laughter; even Sessimine joined in on the fun, although she was the first to return to her composed state. The instructor seated herself on one of the desks in the front of the classroom, which unlike the ones toward the back, were large enough for several students to sit at.

“Competent, hmm? Well, let’s see…” Turning to her right, Sessimine noticed a young man at the end of the desk she was seated upon. After looking the student over momentarily, the instructor turned back to the young lady who had just answered her question.

“Is this one yours?”

“He sure is.” The girl swelled with pride. “One of two, to be precise.”

“Ah! Excellent! Then you won’t be too lonely when I tell you that I’m taking your boyfriend here for the evening.”

The young woman’s eyes nearly shot out of their sockets. “What?!”

Sessimine replied in a matter-of-factly tone. “You heard me. We’re going to have a romantic dinner, maybe a pleasant walk in the square. Perhaps we’ll go to the theater – I’m sure there will be something suitable there.” The instructor spun around, throwing her legs up on the desk in front of the young man, making sure that they were quite visible through a slit in the side of her gown. The student simply stared, absolutely smitten by Sessimine’s advances; his former girlfriend, however, was less than charmed.

“But, but… You can’t do that! He’s mine, for the love all things good and holy!”

“Correction. He was yours, and if I find him boring, you can have him back tomorrow. If you were a… How did you put it? Oh yes! If you were a competent enchantress, you wouldn’t be having this problem now, would you?”

The rest of the class began to snicker – save Naomi, who had burst into full-on laughter – as the young woman turned to the charmed man and slapped him several times in an effort to jar him from his trance. “Come on, Professoressa! You’re at least…” The girl stopped in her tracks as a sinister stare from Sessimine convinced her that guessing the instructor’s age was probably not a smart idea. “He’s only twenty-two! Isn’t there some kind of policy against this sort of thing?!”

“Of course not! And besides, if an instructor was interested in you, it would be an insult to turn them down, would it not?” Sessimine turned to address a young man seated several rows back. “Am I correct?”

“If it aids you in passing a course, by all means…”

“See! This way, everyone’s happy, except those who make smart-aleck comments to their instructors and lose their boyfriends – but most people are smart enough to know when to hold their tongues, right?”

The humiliated girl simply pouted and stared off into the distance. Not one to be ignored, Sessimine sketched out on the desk and poked her in the side until she responded with a stare. With a tone somewhere between consolation and mockery, the instructor continued to prod at the young woman, hoping she would put up a better fight. “Come now, don’t be so cross! I promise we won’t do anything too intimate. Will it make you feel any better if-” Sessimine was abruptly cut off by the noisy clamour of the bell sounding the end of the class period and the shuffling of paper and books as her students gathered their materials. Quickly sliding off the table and back onto her feet, Sessimine crossed her arms and shut her eyes while she addressed the fleeing students.

“Ahem! I don’t believe I ever finished explaining Kobayashi’s Principle. I assure you, it will appear on the next exam. I will require you to demonstrate it, so you’d better start practicing! If those students who are now leaving my class would be so kind to seat themselves once more, I’ll make a point of it to forget I ever noticed them commit such a grave offense as running out on a lecturing instructor!”

There was a moment of silence followed by the mad rush of footsteps making their way towards the hall. When Sessimine opened her eyes moments later, there were only two students sitting in her classroom, one of them being the hopelessly charmed boy. Perking up one of her eyebrows, the instructor stared at the lone right-minded scholar inquisitively.

“Well, what are you doing here?”

“You said you were going to explain Kobayashi’s Principle… I don’t want to fail my next exam.”

“You’re not a very bright one, are you? You should have ran out with all of your peers. Do you think I’d fail an entire class?”

The student replied hesitantly. “Well…”

“Ha! At least you have a sense of humour. Now hurry up at get out of here so I can have fun toying around with my new butler.” With a snap of her fingers, both students stood up; the young man quickly making his way to her side and collecting her books, while the young woman quickly scurried out of the classroom. Content with her day’s work, Sessimine motioned for the boy to carry her books back to her office while she locked up the room.

Leebot:
[OOC: A little warning. Some of the subject matter here is a bit intense (I don't think it's too much, though). Using the new TV rating system, it would probably get a TV-14 V. If this is a problem, let me know.]

Scene 3 - Babtism by Fire

Royal Prison of Zeal
Time Unknown

The first thing she noticed was the cold, metal bed. For the first few moments, she didn’t suspect anything—it was normal for the mind to take a few seconds to come back to reality after a deep sleep. When her mind failed to register anything, she started to grow concerned. Her eyes shot open, and she looked around.

At first, all she noticed was a pale, red glow. As her eyes adjusted, she realized that the glow seemed to be coming from the entirety of the wall in front of her. It appeared to be the only light source in the room, not that there was much to see. The entirety of the room seemed to consist of the bed and a hole in the corner—presumably for relieving herself.

Where am I? she asked herself. No answer was forthcoming, so she decided to go back a step further. What was I doing before I fell asleep? Still nothing. She tried to remember anything, but her mind refused to cooperate. Who am I? What’s my name? No use.

I must have amnesia, she realized. Wait! I knew the term! This means I still have some knowledge. I can speak this language, at least. What’s it called? English. Okay, I have no memory, but I still have my knowledge. Is this common for amnesia? This was a pointless question, as she couldn’t remember any other case of amnesia.

I don’t know. Let’s go over what I do know. I have no long-term memory, but I remember waking up and looking around, so my short-term memory is working. I have a knowledge of English, so maybe my knowledge is intact. What else can the brain do? Acquired skills and reflexes! But, what skills should I have? Damnit, this is pointless if I can’t remember what I’m supposed to know how to do!

By this point, her vision had cleared to the point that she could see that the glowing wall was, in fact, slightly transparent. On the other side, she saw what appeared to be a hallway. She got out of her bed and approached the wall. She tentatively reached a hand forward to touch it. Before her hand reached the wall, she started to feel some force resisting her. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t get through.

After her third try to push through, she noticed some writing on her arm. The first two parts were in English alphanumericals. A number, “33,” hyphen, the letter “T,” and another hyphen. The last symbol took her a few seconds to place. It was a letter from an ancient language—Sigma. Is this their way of labeling me? She wondered idly. How dehumanizing! Still, it’s not as if I have anything else to call myself… “33-T-Sigma.” Too unwieldy. “Sigma.” It’ll do.

Sigma sat back on the bed and waited for someone to come.

Later, she would wish she’d been left alone. A guard had come eventually. He’d done something which caused the red wall to disappear, and then he’d grabbed Sigma and dragged her to another room, where a foreboding man was waiting. She’d been strapped down to a chair, and asked a barrage of questions. Why was she in Giant’s Claw? Who was she working for? What did she know about the Council? She protested that she didn’t know anything, but every time she responded this way, the man would find a way to cause her pain. At first, he would simply slap her. As the interrogation wore on, he started punching at her solar plexus, forcing her to gasp for breath. Eventually, the interrogator gave up, and she was sent back to her room, crying uncontrollably.

The next day, Sigma was brought back to the torture chamber, as she’d come to think of it. This time, her torturer was joined by a handsome man in a pink subfusc. This man talked to her in a surprisingly gentle manner, while still trying to get answers from her. She felt herself compelled to answer, but she had no answers to give. He kept asking her questions, occasionally muttering a chant of some sort. Sigma started to get the impression that he was casting some sort of spell, but she was never given enough time to ponder this prospect before she was distracted by his questions. This process continued throughout the whole day, until the man eventually gave up. After he’d left, her torturer took the opportunity to slug her a couple of times before she was brought back to her room.

The third day was similar to the second, except instead of a man in a pink subfusc, Sigma was questioned by a beautiful woman wearing a red subfusc. After another failed interrogation, she was sent back to her room. The fourth day found her with the same woman. It was at this point that the woman started to utilize her own brand of torture. Whenever Sigma couldn’t answer a question, which was, unfortunately, every time, the woman would launch a minor magical attack against her. Sigma would be alternately burned, frozen, and shocked from the barrage of spells. When she couldn’t take any more, the woman would cast a spell to heal Sigma’s wounds, only to start all over again.

This process continued for countless days, until Sigma was sure she couldn’t take anymore. She was questioned once more, and once more protested that she couldn’t remember anything. The woman stepped back, muttered a few words, and shot off a ball of fire at Sigma. Sigma reflexively closed her eyes, praying to any gods that may be listening to have mercy on her. When the blast of fire never came, it seemed that her wish had been granted. She cautiously opened her eyes, only to see the fireball streak in front of her. As she watched, it circled out of her vision, and past it again and again. Eventually, it burned itself out, sparing her its impact. Her reprieve was only temporary, however. The woman cursed and launched another fireball at her. This one found its target, and her torture began again.

Events like this started occurring more frequently during her torture sessions. It was not uncommon for one of the woman’s spells to miss its mark or simply fail. Ice spells would cause icicles to form in the air beside Sigma and fall harmlessly to the ground. Lightning spells would cause electricity to arc harmless around Sigma and into the wall behind her. At one point, a fireball launched at Sigma circled around behind her and came back to hit the woman. After this event, Sigma’s questioner was replaced by another woman; Sigma believed the first woman had had enough and refused to participate any more.

This second woman gave up after one day of unanswered questions and deflected spells. The third woman to come wore a dark blue subfusc and barely bothered with questions. Her spells had more success, and included some spells which felt to Sigma as if they were eating away at her very life, plunging her into eternal darkness. Eventually, as the mage prepared to cast one of her most fearsome spells, something in Sigma snapped. She shouted out a furious “NO!!!” The spell misfired in its caster’s hands. As Sigma watched, it appeared as if a hole were torn in space. The mage and the torturer were sucked into the void; Sigma was saved only by virtue of her restraints. Then, the hole closed up as if it had never existed, erasing Sigma’s two torturers from existence.

Sigma was sent back to her room after this incident. Stunned, she could do nothing but fall to sleep as the prison guards ran a tight vigil over her. The next day, she was once again removed from her cell, but was taken in a different direction this time. She asked the guard what was going to happen to her, but all he would say was that she was more trouble than she was worth. She was thrown onto a strange platform, the guard threw a switch, and her world went black.

Aitrus:
Scene 4 - Darkness and Light

Aias paced up and down the alley.  Where is he? he thought.  His contact should have already come and gone by now.  He looked down at the pocket watch he carried.  The meeting had been scheduled for nearly an hour previous.  He’s been compromised.  There goes three years of manipulation, blackmail, and bribery for nothing…

He was just turning to leave and work his way back to the palace when someone entered the other end of the alley.  “The darkness sure falls fast and hard nowadays, doesn’t it?” the man called, giving the sign that Aias had given his contact for this meeting.  Aias recognized the voice immediately.

“But there’s still room for the light,” Aias replied, countersigning.  “What kept you, Rolan?”  Aias remained in the shadows, maintaining the secrecy about his identity.  He hadn’t let any of his contacts know who he was yet, and he had no intentions of doing so anytime soon.

“Security patrols,” Rolan said.  “Ever since they caught that one guy snooping around the Council complex, the security patrols have kept curfew much tighter than they used to.  Anyway, here’s the information you wanted.”  He held up a scroll, and then tossed it into the pool of light near Aias’ feet.  In return, Aias tossed a small bag of coins towards the man.  Bending over and opening it, Rolan counted his money.  “Thanks,” he said once satisfied with the count, and then turned away, heading back the way he came.

Once Rolan had gone round the corner, Aias stepped forward and picked up the scroll.  He checked the seal and identification number, made sure both were correct, and then picked his way back across the city towards the lifts to the palace.  He looked forward to reading the scroll, especially since it contained, among other things, the results of an “experiment” they ran not a week earlier.  “Universe 27-Alpha-3,” he said, remembering the id on the scroll.  Judging from other reports he’d had smuggled out, he knew what this one would contain.  He just hoped this one would have something to help him win over people to his cause.

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