Torn Across the Rift

[Affili]

Deuce sighed in frustration. His twin blades had been with him for longer then he could remember. Forged by his own hand and infused with his own elemental ether and now, he was stuck with just one, and some other cumbersome blade that had been forged on earth.

Deuce glanced around the room at all the people assembled there. "I seem to remember your rescue teams holding weapons perhaps that is why a few of them evaded you" unsure if he could trust these people he decided it best to keep his statements brief and too the point.
"You have listened to my story, and now I'd like to hear yours. Why do all of you suppose, so many other beings suddenly got torn from their respected worlds and dropped here, of all places? Those ruins were littered with all kinds of strange, unnatural energies and from the looks of it, you people on earth seem quite infatuated with technology, I'd hate to imagine all of these other beings, are here from some failed experiment here on earth..."
he let the words hang as he swept his hand across the room and forced himself into silence but one final question pricked at his mind;
how was it that they seemed to have a handle on all the events taking place around here. He decided against asking that question for now as he glanced around the room and eased back into his seat then asked,

"How long had you been tracking the dragon before the trail went cold?"

If there was one thing he was certain of was that the dragon had been filled with an energy, it felt ancient, but it was most definately a potent energy source. He had picked up on an elemental aura that led him straight to that 'Dizzy' girl he and the others found before they parted ways. It had seemed that Deuce was nothing strange to her based on her actions while he was with her, but that aside, it just seemed that this organization he was with right now had more knowledge then they wished to share.

'Perhaps it would be better if I left this place, and went looking for Dizzy instead' he thought to himself as he sat in silence

[Letter Bee]

Ascot

The strange man's sword shared a resemblance to blades found in the Middle East and India, but that would be a false lead, if he was from another world like Anark. And so, Ascot listened as the Elemental, whom he would later learn was named Deuce, told the group about his arrival into this world and his initial experiences there. It was a fascinating story, one with the requisite blend of action and dialouge. The tale of the Dragon fascinated him, as well as the various abilities of Deuce's once-companions, including the person named Will Viridian and his non-anthropomorphic Pokémon. After that, came Punky's interruption.

Apparently, having knowledge of basic videogame jargon wasn't as much of a liability as one would think, as the boy understood what the two Minecraftians meant. But, before he can interrupt, Rozalind finally turned towards Adrianna, unleashing a wave of biting sarcasm on her that could have consequences in the future. If those two openly fight in this conference...thankfully, it seemed that Tristan was in control of the situation. Ascot then turned to Zesiro and Akari, who seemed to be in a better mood now. He smiled at that; those two deserved happiness.

The conference went on, with Lark questioning Anark and Punky about the terminology that they used. Ascot took that as his turn to speak up: ''Ms. Lark, I belive that 'Jeb' is a powerful entity living on their world, a sort of 'creator diety' to the Minecraftian people. However, their way of talking about him means that they see him more as a 'Moderator' or 'Game Master', of the kind one finds in video games. 'Mobs' refer to groups of enemies, while 'Withers' are probably monsters with a poison that removes the sensation of pain entirely, thus rendering the victim unable to sense the extent of their injuries. Sorry for the interruption,'' Ascot spoke in an embarrassed tone.

After that came the three Offworlders listing down the worlds that they had come from, Twain speaking of a team of escapees, which included a Vampire, and bringing up pictures of them (which were hard to register, but Ascot still did his best to memorize them), and Lark speaking again, about the Dragon being lost (which would probably require powerful magic or technology, immense material resources on the part of the enemy, and perhaps both), and...Velociraptors. So, there's time travel as well as space travel. Gyah, I hope that this won't lead to the fabric of space-time tearing itself apart. And finally, it seemed that the Elemental was getting suspicious of the people gathered here. Ascot understood; after all, he had been torn from his world and then subjected to a barrage of dangers, which would make him slightly paranoid of his 'rescuers'.

[Hawlin]

Kerrigan~

"For centuries I have learned..." She murmured, admiring the artwork with a puzzled demeanor. "Have you no symbols to Ghott in these hallowed halls? I see such depictions...although..." Kerrigan began before descending into musing, being mindful not to touch anything but the floor she tread upon, though coming within an inch of certain works (paintings and the like) to observe the material and even brush strokes. She stopped, turning back to the priest before asking, "...And your operations with the armsmen who desecrate it with shameless sully of murder?"

No sooner had I mentioned the topic than had I been interrupted by the rush of soldiers heading in mass towards the scent of foodstuffs which I'd paid the mind to ignore, in favor of the lush culture of the architecture, though I knew that I could not continue to take in information of every inch of the structure. "Men of war inhabit hallowed ground. Pardon my forwardness on the issue, if you will, but I must inquire if you are aware of their intentions which I have witnessed...?" I asked; a safe question revealing little information that I could easily deny if pressed. I was curious why armed soldiers resided in a structure of such grace and dignity, without even a religious patch...and CERTAINLY why a barbarian would even be accepted amongst their ranks in any regards.

Alix~

An excellent point that the russurian had been about to make was abruptly cut short by the roar of a massive craft of some sort which rattled the architecture. Such sounds reminded me of massive transit on the border worlds...trains..I think they were called. However, my fascination wasn't shared by the rest of the group as the armored barbarian seemingly went mad. I hadn't bothered to move, despite the man's threats, noting the soldier's weapon still locked and leveled. The barbarian's comment about the soldier's 'strange spear' caused me to have to fight back a laugh, although what came next would have made me eat such impressions of naivety.

Against all sane reasoning, the man charged, only to be met by the thump of railtech weaponry punching a hole into his shoulder, the spasms of struck nerves causing his spear to clatter to the ground, and himself not a moment later, caving to his wounds which gradually painted the floorboards a haunting crimson which almost called to me if not for a dull glow from the blood's waning aura as it flooded into the wooden crevices which mirrored that of an animal rather than a man, a pure soul lost to an unnamed corruption.

I drew my knife institutionally, his molding aura inspiring an irrational fear which I could see displayed by my russurian comrade, though composed through what almost seemed like cold expectance, as though this was not the first time he had encountered something so profound. Before he could finish his warning, the barbarian had rapidly transformed into an abomination of man and beast, sweeping the soldier from his feet with a mere gesture, the shots fired now causing little more than a bother to the monster who surely would have sundered the soldier on the spot if not for the russurian's spontaneous actions.

It was a mess which I looked helplessly upon, attempting to focus my energy, perhaps for a single attack which never came as I would have difficulty firing into the melee without catching one of my combatants by mistake. The 'dust' cleared, the shock of the mauled remains of the beast gave way as I turned my attention to the russurian; a mess at this point with most of his features handing in bleeding flaps from his figure. I felt sick, looking upon him, not for his appearance, but that I had let that become of him. The glint of a fang struck me with a sense of confusion, although I still acted with a composure of compilation; his wounds seemed hardly comfortable at the absolute least, and, with the carious threat dispatched, I bent my summoned essence.

Alix stood, awestruck by the event she had witnessed, the tiny exposed crackling mass of dark energy enclosed in her hands which she cupped as one might hold water. "I..." she began, a horrified tone snuffing her words as she looked from Nikolai to the beast then back to him and then to the swirling light in her grip. "Ol hein seh..." she muttered, reaching for Nikolai's face, carefully, in a display to show she had no intention to further harm to him before smoothing the energy across his face, his parted skin lacing with the wound in a light scar which rapidly faded with a small plume of black steam along the cut's mark. "Jeh, jeh...zeiz events haf made unt mess uf...you..." she began in a detached tone, forcing the essence across his arms, strings of matter being visibly pushed into the cuts in his arms, forcing clotting and meshing with his flesh, though the essence still held a dull red glow.

The effect was less than the effect on Nikolai's face as the orb dulled and was quickly replaced by light sparks directly from Alix's hand which stung, though served its purpose, more or less. Towards the end of the gesture, Alix fell forward, steadying herself, barely with a hand against his chest, her hand still moving as though still trying to heal him before she simply collapsed, succumbing to essence loss and not simply exhaustion. Comatose for the time being, there was no solace in her slumber, and certainly no rousing. Such states were known to last up to an hour or two, although returning to consciousness would leave her no better off than when she was, originally.

I owed so much to him, and was the cost of so much of his world, wherever it may have been from; I served the people nobly, and, having failed in doing so twice in the past day, the least I owed him was whatever remained. I existed on borrowed time from a nameless source which rescued me from death's gate. In all actuality, I served no cause; a corpse for the cleansing which I would have been received by the hands of Paladin Kerrigan. Not to mention my distance; my power now existing without direction in a world, undeserving...

...for my crimes I accept, I owe him so much; not for my innocence, but my vindication...

...proof I still exist.

[Pemn]

“Moderator? Game Master?” Punky echoed Ascots choice of words. She knew what the first one meant but not the second. “Close but not quite. A moderator is someone who aids in running a Server; a country that many people live on.” She clarified for the others, still surprised at Ascots amount of knowledge but the way he used those words made her feel a bit uneasy especially ‘videogames’ for some reason. “Jeb is a god able to control everything and anything in Minecraftia. Even those with Creative and modding capabilities can’t get anywhere near as powerful as him!” She finished almost wide eyed. “Other than that you got everything right.”

She waited a moment before continuing, Anark was being oddly quiet for some reason. “No, Jeb doesn’t make portals we do by setting alight a doorway of Obsidian so we can access the Nether, which Notch made before he stepped down and gave the responsibility of running Minecraftia to Jeb.” She took a moment to think about the last question. “Haven’t seen anyone or anything around here from Minecraftia. How about you Anark? Anark?” She poked her brothers shoulder forcefully.

“huh what? Sorry what was that?” He tore his amazed gaze away from the blue screen.

“Have you seen anything around here from Minecraftia?” She repeated the question with an annoyed edge in her voice.

“..uuh..no, don’t think so.” He said obviously distracted. “Could I have the crafting recipe for that…” He gestured at the floating screen. “Thing please?"

[Eyeris]

Twain leaned back on his toes, he threw up his hands in response to Deuce's implications. "Hey, What can I say? I'm a necromancer, I'm misunderstood!" He had encountered the group that had 'gotten away' the Vampire and the young girl... "Look, I ran into some of the guys-that-ran off. Tried to talk to 'em, but they ran off as soon as they realized that zombies were hanging around. Granted, it is a natural impulse..."

"The Dragon? Not very long, a few hours maybe." Tristan answered the elemental's second question. "Headed north, with certainty."

Lark scratched and scribbled across her notebook as Punky spoke. She looked between her conflicting notes with both brows knit together.

"A... Recipe..." It was possible that Rozalind had never played a video game in her life.

"Who among you are ofthis world?" his gaze traveled slowly around the table. "Were none of the mages found? The children?"


~~~

Aneliya thought over each of the woman's statements and questions before answering. "Well there are the icons and the cross of course..." she watched the soldiers settle into their seats, her expression a mixture of pity and curiosity. "We understand that our mission is not an easy task. Jesus embraced the sinners and outcasts, showing them the true path to heaven and righteousness. For those who have committed mortal sin need God's Grace the most. We are humbled to remember that we are all born sinners. I... do not ask anyone who come's here what their sins were, or even where they are from, (I am a nun not a confessor) if they wish to share it or speak of it they may... but, I only ask them first, if they believe, second, if they will pray with me, third..." she bit her lower lip, hesitating. "It must sound so simple... I am young and unwise in the ways of the world. Perhaps the Priests or elders could explain these things better..."

She cast her dark eyes to the warrior woman. She was indeed curious, what had she seen? Who were these men exactly? And who was this woman exactly? She spoke of God and against murder, yet wore armor and carried a weapon herself... She was certainly did not belong to the troupe she had arrived with.

"I do not deny that I am often curious, especially about you... you seem... different."

[Letter Bee]

((Collab post between me and Eyeris))

"Who among you are of this world?" his gaze traveled slowly around the table. "Were none of the mages found? The children?"

Leo, in his first action since the meeting began, looked at Ascot, but didn't say anything yet. In his mind, he was still considering possible ways to burn/freeze/punch/tear apart an enemy that can remove all sense of pain from a person. The boy, however, then spoke up again: "Ah, Mr. Tristan, that would be me, sir. I...I'm one of the children kidnapped by the mages, assuming that my memories and your implications are correct, and..." there was a sad sigh, "The only one that was rescued, I'm afraid. For that, I have Zesiro to thank,'' Ascot then turned towards the communications officer in gratitude, hoping that his mention of his service to him would raise his confidence and provide a way to restart the road towards friendship temporarily interrupted by Anark.

Ibrahim folded his hands on the table, resting his gaze on the young boy. His face had been one among many photos and sketches of missing children from all over the world. "Do you remember what happened to the others?"

Ascot gazed back at the CEO, remembering to speak clearly now instead of gushing. ''No, Mr. Sakaar, it is sad to say that those memories are still blocked. However, from what my rescuers have implied, there seems to have been some sort of sacrifice planned, which, due to the fact that there was a large-scale magical phenomenon that was powerful enough to snatch people from other worlds, must have partially succeeded. The 'partially', I think, is because there was something that went wrong with the sacrifice, which could be an escape of some of the more important victims," perhaps Mika? There was a reason why both she and I were untied; the Cultists needed a man and a woman, to represent a father and a mother, two halves of one nature. Either my disappearance was enough to disrupt the rite - which is unlikely as the ritual started anyway, or Mika found a way to fight back or escape; she's strong like that.

"Amnesia is a common symptom of great trauma" Lark commented, she did not look up from her notes.

Ibrahim waved a hand, the projector showed the many faces: class photos, newspaper prints, missing fliers, blurred photos from family gatherings. "Can you help us identify the others? Do you remember any of their names?"

The boy first tried to hold back the wave of grief that washed over him, then searched his memories. After a few seconds, he began speaking again, giving a list of names of the people missing. Said names reflected a great diversity of language, from English to Urdu to Burmese to Chinese and Filipino (Ascot's Uncle had married a Filipino, and he had learned the language from her). And finally, he spoke Mika's full name, Mi'ksinaawa. "Mr. Sakaar, is there really any hope for them?'' the boy asked. ''I know that some of them must be dead already, but I think that Mika's at least alive.''

When that last name, Mi'ksinaawa, left Ascot's lips he would see the breif but certain reaction of emotion in Ibrahim's dark eyes. He would turn away from the boy to the projection. "Why do you believe that Mika has escaped?"

''Because she's a fighter at heart,'' Ascot spoke with a little jolt of...defensiveness? "But that's not the only reason. Tell me, what rites usually require a mother and father surrogate for symbolism, and what happens when said surrogates are removed from the rite before it was finished?''

"That is a possibility..." Ibrahim considered "I pray that you are right."

Ibrahim turned to Lark. "We must contact the families of the children identified... and the rest as well, for must keep looking."

"I hope that you do not look down upon me for my presumption, but will there also be more than notfications for the families of those beraved? Many of them do come from poor or lower-class households, after all.'' The boy prepared for a volley of apologies if he had offended.

This time it was curiosity in his eyes. "What did you have in mind, Ascot?"

''Merely gifts of money and food, and for those whose children were taken from them forever, perhaps...'' Ascot prepared to risk himself, ''a generous grant of jobs, scholarships, and, for those who wish to immigrate to a First World Country, a Green Card?'' There. Now the others would challenge him for his presumption.

Tristan and Lark certainly seemed confused, but Ibrahim seemed unphased, he even began a grin. A Green Card. "Why?"

''Ah, I was just trying to guess what the families of the children would want, actually,'' the boy was embarrassed now.

Ibrahim sensed the boy's feeling, he waved a hand to banish the tension. "No Ascot, it is good to think of others. Actually, my involvement in this investigation is only a personal inquiry. However... I will see what can be done." He folded his hand, and for the first time touched his siva-cup (a mocchachinno) and stood. "Speaking of which, my inquiry has been satisfied. Perhaps I should leave the rest to you."

Ascot bowed to Mr. Sakaar. ''Thank you. I am honored to see such generosity.'' The boy meant it.

[Affili]

Deuce listened intently as Ascot spoke of the sacrifices and this rite or ritual performed by a group of cultists bu could not understand how the suggestion of money and such materialistic gifts could settle a grieving soul.
"May I ask How old the human race is?"

Deuce's race had been around for eons, they had learned much and yet still had so much to learn.

The thought of the young ones being sacrificed caused his elemental energies to stir in anger and the floor rumbled around him briefly and he slammed a fist on the desk in front of him before regaining his composure.

He glanced at Ascot "So the young ones, were meant to be sacrificed for this ritual of theirs? how infuriating!", what kind of person would do such a thing?" he glanced around the room at the others from earth "Are these men of your kin?" His eyes swirled in response to his anger as he continued "What was the purpose of this Ritual? or are you still not sure? Give me all the information you have on these cultists and I shall make it my mission to hunt them down and put a stop to this foolishness before it goes too far." he sighed heavily before adding, "my people performed sacrifices many cycles ago in their earlier existence and no good ever came from it! it is sickening to think about!"

[Hawlin]

~Kerrigan

Her mention of a cross did little to settle my speculation; a false symbol of prosecution used by heretics. I rested my palm on the pommel of my blade as I turned to address her, her explanation intriguing in its nature, being a means of linking the affiliation of the church and the mercenaries whose mud from their boots soiled the halls and rugs.

"I would relish a moment to speak with your superiors, yes " She began as they stopped in front of a painting of 'the last supper'. "Ne'jah...wisdom is simply the tool that the virtuous wield. Like all swordsmen, perfection comes with practice...and you have nothing to apologize for, dear child, you need only realize how to use your teachings to better your kind" She continued, her statement coming with an odd tone, considering how young Kerrigan must have seemed, in herself; as young if not younger than Aneliya, physically in comparison.

Her question confused me at first, though, in my remembrance of the situation it occurred to me that I may have not formally pled my situation to her.
"I had...ehm...recently introduced myself to the soldiers on their recent mission, having previously fallen into rank with the others summoned, including my quarry, Miss Alixandrie Viverette Yvelle, a dangerous witch charged with treason, along with other demons and a small child bound in wire nets for which I aim to appeal in her favor for an ample trial." I sighed, looking up at the painting in foreign skepticism before adding in reference to a previous statement, "I am Paladin Kerrigan Sinclair of the Legion races of the M.Terria system, current serving inquisitor under jurisdiction 055, fugitive retrieval...dead or alive."
I looked upon my steel, plating and blade before commenting, "My tools are for my defense...my miracles ensure my steel strikes down the guilty; my claim can be confirmed by five of the men you service who are unharmed due to my favor..."

A slight smirk threatening the edge of her lips which she feinted covering with a hand before she asked, "Again, and, pardon for my forwardness on such personal matters...but...what did you claim your age to be?"

[Lucama221]

Ignoring Rozalinds obvious taunts Adrianna listened intently to the story being unraveled before her. Cults, sacrifices, mother and father. The last one struck a particular chord in her, but she waved it off.

Is the reason that I'm here because children were slaughtered? Because the cultists ripped them from their families and mercilessly sacrificed them to their false gods?

And then what Ascot said about the girl, Mika. Adrianna could feel there was as much hope in that statement as there was certainty, so much so it could be called a wish. At that very moment she wanted to be a Jirachi and make that wish come true. Finally she stood up, half intentionally and half startled by Deuce slamming the table next to her.

"I will go too. If these cultists preformed some form of ritual, and most of us are not of this world...I think logic dictates that whether intentionally or by mistake, their ritual brought us here. If that is the case, then we are all stained by the blood of your pups, and that also places us as the only ones able to bring vengeance upon them."

There was a dangerous glint in her eyes. Even in her work as an assassin she never killed pups, of her kind or human. To her killing such a young life is a crime beyond all measure, and could only be forgiven by something of a higher power. Considering this she poured out her heart into the sky, begging Arceus and the divine legenadries to forgive her, and help her clean the young blood off her hands.

[Pemn]

Anark returned Rozalinds look of puzzlement with one with surprise. Everyone knew what a crafting recipe was; it was common knowledge, so how could she have not known what one was? The idea of being in another world had still yet to sink in for Anark, thinking that he and his sister where just on another continent that had been modded to be different from the rest of Minecraftia but if she really didn’t know what a recipe was…

“Y’know, the crafting recipe you used to make that…uh…sign post thing.” He attempted to explain with probably little success. “Umm, the way you place certain items, such as ores and other material, together to make something else.” He motioned with his hands in an attempt of explaining what he meant. “Like…a torch! You place a piece of coal or charcoal on top of a stick and then you get a torch. Same thing with a sword; putting two wood or diamonds on top of a stick and voila, a sword. Do you understand?” He asked hoping Rozalind would now know what he meant and hopefully give him the crafting recipe for that blue board thing.

Punky quickly made a mental note to ask Anark to make her some armour and weapons when she got the chance, but at the moment she was concentrating more on the conversation about these cultists and the possibility of them sacrificing kids! She clenched her teeth and scowled in anger at what these people had done as well as their method of doing so. Just like those Herobrine worshippers had done years ago when they had heard that Nocth had removed him from Minecraftia and so the worshippers had gone and sacrificed an entire village in a suicidal attempt to bring back their so called ‘banished god’, if it weren’t for Nocth’s quick actions Herobrines return could’ve had a much higher death count.

“Don’t forget me.” Punky stood up with a murderous grin. “I may not know as many recipes as my brother but I know enough to make a house and some equipment.” She then turned to Acsto. “Hey kid, you said about helping all those families whose kids were taken, right? One thing you could do is give them a whole new house! Maybe even a mansion!” Anark looked at her knowing how much work he was about to get. “Anark here built the entire apartment building I live in now in a matter of days all by himself, and the market place too free of charge. Needless to say the city parish love him.

“…I was passing by so I thought that maybe I’d help them improve the area a bit.” He shrugged, not sure if he liked the attention his little sister was now throwing at him.