Thousand Isles (Riot God Quest)

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I'm Not Dead
  • Sidestory
    • I'm Not Dead​

    When I was born, they thought I was a corpse.

    "His skin is pale! And his flesh his body is icy cold!"

    It wasn't until I started crying at their attempts to revive me that they realized I wasn't dead.

    "How can this be…? Is he… a m-" "Miracle. My son is a miracle."

    Although, honestly, I'm starting to think they might have been right all along. How else could anyone explain the fact I'm still standing despite the gaping hole in my chest?

    It was the result of an accident. A small piece of glass falling from one of the many edifices that scrape the sky which just so happened to land on an unfortunate Inchling. Or was it fortunate that it happened to me and not some other Inchling who couldn't survive it like I apparently could? I looked at the wound.

    Definitely unfortunate.

    Honestly, I'm not sure what to do. I can't return home like this, people already think I'm strange. Not like the other Typed. Defective. The power to not age but not die? Well, it was a lot less impressive than Edith, I'll say that much. Not that many Typed could compare to her weapon creation.

    Point is, I'd be branded a monster without a shadow of a doubt. Wouldn't be the first time based on what my father has told me.

    So I left.

    Just picked a direction and started flying, no idea where I was heading and with nothing but a gaping wound. It didn't hurt, but it was a constant and disturbing reminder of why I left. Which is why I didn't look at it.

    Days turned into weeks, and I encountered a variety of creatures and tribes along my journey. Some were welcoming, most weren't. I learned I didn't need to eat. Not by choice because I still very much get hungry. That discovery led me to seeing if I can breathe underwater. The answer is yes, once I got over the fear of drowning and just let my lungs fill with water. An oddly comforting sensation.

    I've been exploring the submerged buildings of the giants ever since. My wings don't make for the best fins, but I haven't gone hungry once either. I can easily hunt by simply commanding the water around my prey to still. While exploring, I found an interesting place a garden with moss covered walls. A clearly ancient place with sculptures in a style completely different from the rest of the platform with sunken pavilions and ornate gazebos.

    It was peaceful.

    I decided to make it my home. While setting up shop (all my possessions fit on my person) I created a small house in the center of the place. That's when I noticed something, my wound had gotten smaller. It was still gaping, but it had decreased by almost a quarter in size. I can heal.

    My first thought was, "I can go back home!"

    My second thought was, "Do I want to?"

    I looked around, taking in the serenity of my new home, then back at my wound. I had at least a couple more weeks to figure it out. So I put the question aside and continued making myself at home.

    Weeks passed. Life was simple for once. I just wake up, eat, explore, clean Up my house, tend to the garden, and go to sleep. Peaceful. The wound on my chest continued to shrink, bit by bit, as the secluded garden became my refuge. I reveled in the solitude, surrounded by the gentle sway of seaweed and the soft whispers of the submerged world. I had never felt so alive.

    When the gaping hole in my chest had healed completely, leaving behind only a faint scar, my choice has already been long made. I would stay, here in this underwater sanctuary where I was not a freak of nature, but a marvel of existence. I would continue to explore the forgotten remnants of the giants above and the hidden depths of the ocean below. And if anyone could ever venture here, however long that may take, I want them to find a man, not a corpse.

    Although they'll probably find that too.
    AN: That got a bit emotional at the end there. For me at least. Anyways, hope you enjoyed, please put my omake points towards Type: Inchling.
     
  • Sidestory
    • Redikai said:
    I'm Not Dead
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Okay. That is an interesting omake. It was very different from my conception of the Typed, and I'm thinking of just importing the Pokemon types with some adjustments instead of designing a new one (that would take too long, and I don't have the creative motivation to do so).

    Anyway, enjoy your +2 omake points. Type:Inchlings will pass.

    Edit: So I decided to update the Omake Board, and I noticed that you actually had 3 omake points free.
     
    Last edited:
    MangoFlan said:
    Okay. That is an interesting omake. It was very different from my conception of the Typed, and I'm thinking of just importing the Pokemon types with some adjustments instead of designing a new one (that would take too long, and I don't have the creative motivation to do so).

    Anyway, enjoy your +2 omake points. Type:Inchlings will pass.

    Edit: So I decided to update the Omake Board, and I noticed that you actually had 3 omake points free.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Nice. I saw that I had more omake points but, honestly, I don't remember how they work so I decided to make an omake anyways.

    And yeah, I figured that most Typed will be like Pokémon types (it really is just easier) but I wanted to write something about the even rarer few that aren't. Just to show that the Typed can really be anything and what that entails. It kind of makes me think of the Pokémon: Too Many Types mod that Alpharad and his team made with types like Baby and Fluffy.

    BTW, if I had to give their type a name, the nameless inchling would be Undead Type.
     
    Era 4 - Turn 3
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    • This thing is longer than I realized. I know I started writing this rather late, and I was confident that this would a be shorter update. I stopped writing in some acts when I thought they were getting too long and detailed, and I think it still became too long.

    Also, by the way, I think some of you are writing your acts as though the isles exist in a polluted post-apocalyptic world. The world wasn't destroyed because there was a nuclear war or a global flood. The isles are what they are because it was created that way and because of natural degradation. Think more ghost town and less fallout.
    Homo Magus
    Every one hundred new children born among the guests, a girl and a boy would be born with a unique talent and ability. The girl was named Alicia and the boy Hansel. From birth, these children possess heightened manual dexterity, attention to detail, and ambidexterity. The guests wouldn't think much of these abilities, simply regarding them as the occasional talented one. However, it would become the talk of the town when the day of their tenth birthday came around. Black ink discharged from their fingertips, staining all that they touched.

    Their parents brought them to the town physician, and they discovered a startling truth. The black substance that springs forth from the fingers, toes, and tongues of the children were none other than blood. When the physician drew blood to examine, they were startled to see the substance drawn from the veins of the two children to be black like old used oil. It was new and unknown disease. The physician could only advise the parents to observe their children and note additional signs and symptoms of the disease.

    The boy would grow to be an adult with little complications. He studied as an apprentice under Marrow Town's master horologist, eventually opening his own workshop by the end of the age. He would befriend a spry young woman and even have a bouncing little girl with her. He would utilize his talent in making geometrically perfect clock faces and unique branding stamps.

    However, the girl wouldn't be as lucky. When the girl turned sixteen, she would board the fishing beetle with her father to fish in the depths. She cast her net into the sea, but instead of the phoosh they intended to catch, they caught a scaled fish. While the fishes were quite delicious and fatty, they were menaces of the sea, chewing through nets and capsizing boats. There were more than one instance of the scaled fishes dragging men to the depths to the sea to eat them.

    The scaled fish fiercely dragged the net, forcing the guests to let go of the net, but the girl did not. The girl was dragged along with the net, to meet the waves with a splash. She met face to face with the scaled fish in the net, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers when she saw the 3-foot scaled fish entangled in the net begin morphing into a humanoid shape. The scaled fishman moved the trident it held in its mouth to its hand and smiled with its wicked teeth. The girl frantically swam backwards, away from the fishman, but it was futile; the fishman was faster than her in the water. The fishman wrapped its burly arms around the girl and began dragging her to the depths. Air escaped from her lungs rapidly as she screamed in horror.

    Derzor's lieutenants were universally feared throughout the Urban Sea. Derzor's lieutenants were ten times bigger and stronger than an ordinary scaled fish, coupled with them human-like cunning and strange abilites such as the ability to boil the surrounding sea and transform into a humanoid form. In panic, the girl would discharge ink from her hands, hastily drawing a barbaric sigil in the water. The sigil exploded, pulping the lieutenant into a cloud of gore and ripping the flesh from the girl's bones. The girl's body would sink to the bottom of the sea, to be picked clean by scavengers. From the girl's bones would arise a small resilient tree. The crab people of the deep would discover this tree and bring it into their gardens.

    The Sub-urbs
    From beyond the horizon, from places the guests whence came yet of different origin, the Sub-urbs sailed into the Urban Sea. Three grand vehicles clad in walls of gleaming chrome and shaped like whales glided placidly around the supports of the Uneven Platforms. Large metals fins protrude from the Sub-urbs' gleaming hulls propel them forward, while bulging tanks help regulate bouyancy and allow it to sink and emerge from the waves.

    Atop the grand vehicles are landscapes enclosed by large glass domes. Apartments, stores, and other buildings in the style of the Sunken City and made of what appears to be concrete and asphalt stand within the dome. Numerous ports at the edges of the domes allow access to the structure vehicle. At the center of the habital sections stands the Housing Association where one could manage and direct the systems governing the Sub-urban communities such as electrical power and light, water supply, and waste disposal.

    Like many living creatures, Sub-urbs are capable of reproduction. When prompted, a Sub-urb's limited self-repair mechanisms will be redirected into crafting a new structure vehicle at the bottom of the first, and when it is completed, the new Sub-urb would detach from its parent and become independent. However, while the new Sub-urb remains under construction, the parent vehicle cannot self-repair at all and requires maintenance from its residents.

    Many times have the guests tried to board these magnificent beast, but many times have they failed. Although the Sub-urbs have surfaced annually to recycle, the guests couldn't figure out how to gain access to the interiors. The guests would cease attempting to board the submarine towns as the scaled fish began to harassed the guests, causing the guests to become increasingly wary of the sea as many of their numbers was dragged to the depths.

    The crab people were one of the few species to gained access to the Sub-urbs. There were more than one crab person that have been marrooned on the hull of a Sub-urb as they were swept off the platforms above the waves. Some would find their way into the interior towns of the Sub-urbs, but a sizeable population never grew within. A small outpost was made in one of the three great Sub-urbs that would have a permanent population of ten with a hundred or so coming and going from the outpost.

    Nocturnes
    In the belly of one of the Sub-urbs, a new strange humanoid race. The Nocturnes stand at approximately five feet tall with elongated limbs and a lean body. Their dark leathery skin is impervious to dirt and pollutants, and their special coloration allows them to better blend with the shadows. Their piercing red eyes see well in both bright light and complete darkness.

    Nocturnes possess six limbs: two long bony arms, two skinny legs, and two wings. Their wings span twelve feet from tip to tip, and have a special layer of heat-sensitive cells that allow them to detect the slightest temperature changes in their environment. They possess long twig-like fingers and toes tipped with sharp claws that allow give them purchase in the vertical concrete walls of an urban environment. A strong venom flows in their saliva and claws that causes paralysis which is followed by death quickly afterwards.

    Their physiology and natural instinct allows them to easily navigate through their urban environment, making them masters of edificeering rivaled only by the ruinarins. The unique shape of their wings gives them great dexterity and aerial agility, allowing them to easily maneuver even in the narrowest of streets.

    Nocturnes are omnivores. They graze upon the shrubs and trees in the parks and undeveloped parcels of the submarine towns. Meat would only grace their diets in the occasional successful hunt. The sea was a dangerous place, and many would drown and be torn by fish just for them to have a taste the delicious fish that so swam beyond the glass dome. Their bodies are capable of filtering contaminated water sources, and in fact the main method for them to acquire the minerals they require to maintain a healthy body. Nocturnes would purposely mix dirt, sand, and metal shavings to their water for flavor and health.

    Nocturnes typically take residence in high-rise apartment buildings and spacious warehouses and malls. They build their nests within out of scrap materials glued together together with layers of their poisonous saliva.

    Nocturnes form close-knit clans led by an alpha pair who rule their territory with an iron claw. Loyalty is of the utmost importance within the clan and dissent is met with swift and brutal punishment. They respect strength and skill, especially in the arts of manipulation and subterfuge, which they teach at a young age. Nocturnes communicate through a series of high-pitched clicks, whistles, and songs that the other races would hear as eerie echoes floating in the wind.

    The nocturnes do not have many natural enemies, and their biggest threats come from themselves as rival clans fight for dominance. Those brave or foolish enough to wander into their territory often find themselves at the mercy of these creatures.

    When the Sub-urbs would surface, a clan or two would exit the glassen domes. Some would investigate the seas, catching the abundant phoosh and the occasional scaled fish. Eventually, the nocturne would come to fear the sea, just like all the other creatures. Many nocturnes have been dragged to their dooms as forces both aquatic and animal pulled them down to the dark depths. Their lanky bodies were simply not built to maneuver in the water and more often than not, the nocturne would flail about, attempting to catch wind in their wings while scaled fish nip at their ankles and dripping saltwater weigh down upon their wings.

    The Uneven Platforms allured the nocturnes the instant they witnessed it. At night, it shone with the light of a thousand light bulbs, shining brighter than even the large town enclosed within the glassen dome. When the first clans that migrated arrived to the Uneven Platforms, saliva freely flowed from their mouths as they saw the meaty creatures that inhabited it. Meat had been a rare delicacy back on the Sub-urbs, but in this portion of the world? Meat stalked the streets.

    The nocturnes immediately came into conflict with the other races on the isle. They displaced ruinarins from their homes as they occupied the rooftops. The screams of children filled the night as the guests locked their home up tight in fear of the nocturnes spiriting away their children; it sometimes failed, made evident by the broken-into homes devoid of residents yet full of junk, scratches, and bloodstains. The crab people were devastated as the nocturnes struck them were they were most vulnerable, through their soft-shelled children. Even after they knew the children they were eating were fully sapient sentient creatures through the help of the verbose parrot, they still continued to prey on the young of all the terrestrial races. The supple meat was simply to good to give up! They couldn't understand the plight of their prey, their cultures and mindsets simply too different from their own to empathize with.

    The streets of Marrow Town and the Urban Jungle would be painted red with blood. They struggled againsts the nocturnes that blended in the shadows of the night. It was through the martial prowess brought on by the struggle with the sea that the guests would hold their ground against the nocturnes. It was in the potency of their brews that the ruinarins stood to resist against the incursion of the nocturnes. Their legion of parrot-riders stood vanguard to the inchlings, driving back the grubby hands of the nocturnes. The herb-champions stood guard at the sacred gardens and sacred pools of the crab people, leveraging their magnified health, focus, and strength to push back against the encroaching nocturnes.

    It was in an incident against the nocturnes, Magus Hansel would construct his first spell. It was a windy night when they heard the bells signalling the sighting of a nocturne. His mother and father signalled to Hansel to shove his little sister and brother into the closet while they blocked the door and windows. They hoped that the nocturnes wouldn't choose to attack their home that night, and they hoped that they would be caught first by the night watch before they got anyone that night, but they were too hopeful.

    Although they have blocked doors and shutters with heavy wooden boards, they have forgotten to take account one other thing. A cloud of ash and soot was spread across the room as a nocturne emerged from the fireplace. His mother was already opening her mouth wide to scream when his father rushed with a firepoker in hand to strike at the invading beast, but the monster dodged out of the way. The nocturne clawed at his father, creating an ugly gash that ran across his chest, profusely bleeding red.

    His mother screamed, and the nocturne turned her way, but before the monster could pounce on his mother, Hansel picked one of the chairs around the dinner table and smacked the nocturne square in the back. The nocturne fell to the wooden floor with a pool of watery blood quickly pooling under it.

    Quick knocks rang at the door while the voices of the night watch sounded out, demanding for them to open the door. His mother quickly removed the heavy board blocking the door, thanking the sea for looking out for them, but when she pulled the door wide open, the smile bright on her vanished.

    The golden eyes of a offensively yellow parrot looked back at her. It stood on a long twig-like fingers close to the color of roof tiles. She fearfully looked up, staring at the malevolent ruby eyes that looked down on her. Clawed hands pushed on her, the too-long fingers coiled around her arm and neck, keeping her from running and screaming. Tears flowed out of her eyes. "Hansel... help..." she managed to choke out.

    Hansel turned to see the nocturne pass through the threshold of the door, his choking mother in its hand. It walked into the lantern-lit home, blending with the darkness outside like a living shadow. Hansel's knees grew weak. His father turned to his wife, reaching out with a trembling bloody hand, quietly saying "no."

    Hansel was about to run towards his mother and bash the offending nocturne with the chair when the nocturne Hansel had knocked down suddenly grabbed his ankle and bit into his shins. Hansel tripped, falling to the floor with an unceremonious thud. His chin smacked on the floor, causing him to bite into his tongue and cutting it. His mouth filled with dark blood, dripping out between his lips and staining the floor.

    The knocked-down nocturne shakily stood up, holding itself steady with the nearby wall. It stepped on one of Hansel's arms, keeping him down. The nocturne seemed to have become intrigued with Hansel. It extended a finger and tasted the black blood dripping out of his mouth. It seemed conflicted by the flavor. It inserted its fingers into Hansel's mouth and took out the piece of his tongue that he had bitten off. The nocturne then promptly threw the piece of tongue into its mouth.

    The nocturne picked him up and slammed his head at the edge of the table. His vision momentarily went black. When it returned, he sat dazed in one corner of the room. His body felt unresponsive, distant, as though he was connected to his body merely by a fraying cord. His arms simply trembled when he commanded them to rise, and his legs failed to respond at all when commanded. His vision was blurry, the noctures were dark grey blobs messing about. They whispered amongst themselves with their strange whistling language, clearly looking for something.

    He was set beside his mother and father, whose bodies were growing cool. His father had one of his arms wrapped around his neck. He was still alive, but he could tell his life was growing short. His mouth was opening and closing, whispering something. On the other side was his mother who was leaning on his shoulder, completely lifeless. Her eyes were wide open yet her chest failed to rise and fall along with her breath. Her neck was cut open, and blood coated her torso.

    His vision cleared, and what the nocturne were doing became evident to him. They were trying to break into the closet his little brother and sister hid in. They pounding and scratching at the sturdy wooden door while his siblings screamed their hearts out, crescendoing with every hammering fist. His heart hitched at the sight, but he felt powerless to do anything. The nocturnes have ambushed them within their homes and cut them in strategic places so they cannot run or scream.

    ... Or is there?

    His left arm rose, seemingly on its own accord. It trembled, barely holding itself aloft. From its tips flowed the familiar black blood. For five years, the substance haven't flowed out of his fingers, but tonight, it flowed with purpose. Then, he set down a finger on the floor and began drawing. There was determination swelling in his hand. His drand drifted across the surface of the wood, drawing strange symbols unto the floor, a large sigil surrounded by smaller signs, drawn from the intuition granted upon him by the mighty sea. Then, he finished the spell, surrounded the sigils and signs with a circle of blood.

    Light emanated from the spell circle, bathing the house with blinding verdant light. The radiance seeped into the wood of the floor, the beams of the ceiling, and the posts of the walls. The grain of the wood moved like rivers shifting course. The boards swelled and morphed beneath their feet like muscle fibers. Branches rapidly grew from the surrounding wood, and green leaves adorned the gaps in the boards and the ends of these branches. The nocturnes, thoroughly spooked, attempted to flee from the scene, abandoning their meal, but branches reached out from the floor and walls, entangling them in their place. Woody stems coiled around their bodies, trapping them in a skin-tight prison of wood and leaves. They couldn't even flex their fingers and toes as roots entwined with their twig-like digits. They screeched and screamed in their whistling language as they wriggled, cursing Hansel for his spell.

    The sound of iron bells began ringing outside. The harsh ringing began softly then slowly grew louder and louder as the night guards who carried them approached close and closer to their abode. The nocturnes wriggled harder in their restraints. The ringing stopped just outside their doorstep, before guards began stepping into the house. The metal armor covering their body glinted in the lamplight as they beheld the chaos within. They hands held tightly to the scarred tridents in their hands, anxious for what they were about to see, but they were awestruck by the scene.

    Two nocturnes futilely wriggled in a skin-tight cage made of branches and leaves, cursing all of them. The verbose parrots with them didn't bother translating the awful words that escaped their mouths, they could tell what them just from the vehemence of their tone. The inside of the house had been transformed into a strange wilderness, overgrown the green of the trees that have been long dead and transformed into furniture.

    The guards stabbed their tridents straight into the hearts of the struggling nocturnes, swiftly killing them. They carried the injured people sitting in the corner, to bring them to the physician to tend to their wounds. Two of the injured people could still be saved; Hansel and his father still breathed, and a dose of the strong healing potions the town have traded with the ruinarins aught to heal the worst of their wounds, but it couldn't save his mother. Long before the guards had arrived to save them, his mother had grown limp and cold, lifeless and devoid of spirit. While the ruinarine potions were miraculous in their potency, it was a known fact that it couldn't cure death.​

    Sleepwalkers
    To the mossies, reality is much less real to them than dreams. Their whole lives, they live in their own dream realms, dreaming and living in a world partially disconnected from the waking world. The sensations of their sleeping forms translate into various phenomena in their dreams. The dream phenomena would in turn translate into a transformation of forms of themselves and the plants surrounding them, which in turn would translate into new novel sensations.

    The mossies were quite content to live in their dreams, but then, the ___s decided to change that. One of the ___s reached out to the sleeping mossies and instilled a terrible secret into their minds. Another reality underpins reality as they knew it. Many mossies turned purple and grey as the mulled over the terrible secret, many of them losing sleep in the night, but the secret cannot be buried or scoured from their minds. Many have sworn off of sleep, remaining forever awake in their dreams, but there are those that are overcome with curiosity, deciding to send themselves into a deep slumber, sending their consciousness adrift onto a deeper dream.

    Menet patrolled the grove of the ever changing ones. His path was illuminated by the lantern hanging from his cuirass. He carefully stepped between the masses of moss, careful to not crush even a single leaf. The strange moss undulated and waved as though being moved by an absent wind, limp stems reaching out the masses like inquisitive arms. The iridescent green shifted in colors in accordance to a mysterious pattern, with waves of hue and leaf shapes moving throughout the masses like waves on ocean.

    Menet kept a sharp lookout, watching for thieves, intruders, and nocturnes. The oil flames encased within the glass of the lanterns dispelled all the shadows around them from where ambushers may be hiding. His comrades were well within his sight, guarding the sacred grove with him. In his hand was a pair of shears, sourced from the forges of the Eternal Foundry. It served as a weapon through which they punished all trespassers of the sacred groves, and as a tool for pruning unruly monsters that trample the moss from which they emerge.

    Rustle rustle. Rustle rustle.

    The sound of rustling broke the silence of the night. The guards of the sacred grove readied their armaments for the oncoming ambush. An ambush that would not come. They were startled when all the monsters that once hid under the brush woke wide alert, emerging from the iridescent green and rushing towards the exits of the grove. The pulsing masses of fibrous moss pulsed faster and faster until they were actually vibrating. Clouds of pollen and spore filled the air, nearly suffocating everything around them with powder. The fibers that once constituted the pulsing masses disentangled and unraveled, forming walls of iridescent green rising from the floor, enclosing and surrounding the gardener-guards that patrolled that night.

    Then, eyes. Hundreds of eyes opened within the iridescent green. Eyes of all colors and shapes, all vibrating in shock and ecstacy, vibrating in sensory overload. Leaves and roots twisted and morphed around them like a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors. Each twitch was laden with intent and meaning, a language the crab people's gift could decipher.

    I HAVE BEEN GIVEN EYES, AND I SEE, the iridescent green silently screamed.​

    It would be the first among many to waken. The mossies woke in a world that was wholly unlike their dream realms, a place where logic took hold and objects held great permanence. While their bodies retained that dream-like state, its shape up to interpretation and its colors down to one's choice, but all around them, they are surrounded by otbjects with definite shape and unchangeable nature. Each of the mossies to waken would take a different form, and would take another different form every time they waken.

    At first, the mossies merely explored the underlying world with carefree glee. The concept of consequences foreign to them, but when they tired and returned to slumber, they were horrified to find their dream realms fundamentally changed by the actions they committed in the underlying world.

    The Unified Language
    The ___s have given the crab people. For a long age have the crab people been misunderstood and ignored; their voices and plights unheard and unrecognized by the races that so prey on them. No longer will it be, as the ___s have taken the words from their mouth and replaced only truth. No longer will the other races hear the guttural speech of the crab people emanate from their mouths as they could only hear the words in their own tongue.

    The words the other races have written down was rendered comprehensible to them, learning their meanings at absurd rates even with just a small fragment of their writing. They learned that they were surrounded by creatures that could read and write and speak and have thoughts of their own, impressed unto the concrete of the world with their graffiti and trail markers.

    The guests recoiled as they heard the words of their people exit from the mouths of a wild animal. They heard the giants crabs cry like their children. They heard the giant crabs cursing and grieving. They could now see past the shell that clad them, and saw that they were people. People like them. People that lived, loved, and cried. And they have been killing and eating them like a common sea insect. It made many of them feel sick.

    On the other side, the crabs saw that the guests weren't just evil beasts. They too were like them: people. Just because they had their shells inside them did not mean they were soulless beasts without thoughts and feelings. It was a conflict exacerbated by a mutual misunderstanding.

    The war between them halted, but the tension between them never fully disappeared. Just because they could understand each other doesn't mean the atrocities and crimes they had incurred between each other never happened. Even after the two races have reconciled and achieved mutual understanding, there are still those who craved the crab meat even at the expense of another sentient being.

    The crab people of the Sunken City had found their gift of universal speech a boon with dealing with the scaled fish. Although the scaled fish have no compunctions in eating creatures that could think and talk, even one of their own is on the table, but with their gift, the crab people of the depths could communicate and negotiate with the scaled fish. The crab people could buy the support and protection of the scaled fish in exchange of food, service, and the occasional sacrifice.

    The scaled fish had found their ability to perfectly enunciate the sharkman language, a feat the scaled fish themselves (despite being their mother tongue) could not replicate, quite impressive. The scaled fish would often employ the service of the crab people in their prayers and sermons, utilizing their ability to be perfectly understood by everyone to lead their songs of praise to their gods. The crab people would learn the folk gods the scaled fish worship, learning of the spells and theurgies known by their shamans, and in turn, the crab people relayed their philosophies regarding the World That Was and the preservation and care of the environment, influencing even Derzor.

    By the end of the age, the scaled fish would integrate the crab people into their society. The crab people were welcomed into their school, bowing before Derzor, the school's monstrous progenitor, the praised one. Derzor would lay the trident in its hand on the shoulders of the crab people, knighting them and officially welcoming them as part of the school. The crab people would feel an airy strength fill them as Derzor's magic spirit embraced them.

    Verbose Parrots
    A large flock of birds descending from the sky like a cloud rainbow powder. Verbose parrots are a species of birds with riotous colored plumage and impressive vocal abilities. They are quite intelligent with an innate ability to comprehend and speak any verbal language which they use to communicate with other more able races. They often leverage this gift by offering their aid and services in exchange for food. They are omnivorous and thus would take almost any kind of food. All the races of the isles would become closer as the verbose parrots allowed mutual understanding to happen.

    The rooftops of the Uneven Isles was painted with bright colors as though lush carpet grass grew atop them and under open sky. The verbose parrots would prove to be very popular as almost everyone on the Uneven Isles would take at least one as a pet or companion.

    The guests take value of the parrot's vibrant colors and ability to entertain. Verbose parrots becomes part of guestly household, living in birdhouses built to be part of every guestly home. They liven up their homes, bringing a splash of color to contrast their often drab decor, bringing joy with their songs, reflection with their poems, and putting children to sleep with their stories.

    The verbose parrots would also become very popular to the inchlings, but for a very different reason. Where the other races found the verbose parrot's ability to speak to be the most fascinating and useful feature, among the inchlings, it was their ability to fly that was most useful. The inchlings would train a number of these birds, housing and feedings flocks, for the purposes of riding them. It was the sounds of the birds twittering that fully alerted the guests of the tiny people that lived within their walls. They had once thought the tiny elves that lived just out of sight, only occasionally glimpsed scurrying at the corner of the eye. It was through the verbose parrots (and the accounts of the crab people) that they've come to an understanding with the diminutive race.

    For the four or five tribes of ruinarins live in different corners of the Uneven Isles, the ruinarins found the verbose parrots to be most useful in transmitting messages. They trained the birds to remember the names and faces of their friends and closest contacts so that they could recognize to whom to convey the message. Sending a parrot was much faster way to send messages than running. It became so ubiquitous that no ruinarin could be seen without a parrot on their shoulder, and there would even be those that would be surrounded with many parrots as they conversed with multiple people at once at a distance. The ruinarine parrots often congregate around the Ocean Skyscraper, nesting upon its balconies. The ruinarins would eventually realize that the parrots know everyone. Even if one does not recognize the person to whom a message is to be sent, it would only take a verbose parrot visiting the Ocean Skyscraper and asking around and they would know to whom they should be conveying their message.

    The crab people would find little value of the verbose parrots other than being pretty, but when they attempted to speak with them as other races have spoken with them, they were flabbergasted when they heard their own words returned to them. No other have done it; all the others have replied to them in their native tongue to the verbose parrots, who were brought into this world without a mother tongue, could hear the words the words of the crab people as it was. Even verbose parrots born generations after, born from parents that have taught it the words of the other races, could still hear the native tongue of the crab people and imitate it, and the crab people thought that it was valuable. The crab people considered preserving all they could of themselves and their surroundings, in the name of honoring and preserving what little left of the World That Was. The verbose parrots would become a valuable tool in teaching and conveying their literature and language to others.

    However, one day, the cloud of color that so graced the skies at the start of the age would diminish, as monsters from the depths of the sea emerged. Dark as the night and as silent as a draft, the nocturnes struck, killing entire flocks of the birds. Every night, the birds would run into hiding in the homes of their tamers. The sky would become somber as the verbose parrots that once filled the air with color and birdsong fell silent and disappeared.

    Representatives of the four races that called the Uneven Platforms convened and sought the Nocturnes who made a ruckus in the isle. They have heard the words of the verbose parrots, and the birds echoed their meaning to them. They hoped wished to reason with the nocturnes, to make them understand.

    The four would meet with the nocturnes that night. They have sent a verbose parrot to convey their desire to meet with the nocturnes, and the bird would return shaken but confirmed that the nocturnes has agreed to meet with them. There, in that dark intersection, they met face-to-face with the nocturnes. The nocturnes stood out in the open, their gangly arms grazing the ground, the twig-like feet spread across the concrete like roots of a herb. Their slate gray skin blending with the shadows of the city, and their ruby eyes glinting in the darkness like malevolent stars. Above them stood their leader, tall and imperious; its presence cowing its lessers. It stood atop the arm of the traffic light pole, its toes coiling around the tube like rope, looking down at the visitors with a disapproving gaze. When it heard their plight, the nocturne merely opened its mouth and let out an airy hearty laugh, a laugh that its subordinates would echo.

    None of them would return from meeting with the nocturnes. None but two verbose parrots with deep wounds in their side whispering what transpired that night. The birds would die shortly after.

    The Director
    It came from above. The residents of Concrete Jungle are astonished as they saw the crate gracefully parachuted from the sky. As it fell, the crate's bottom hit the edged of the roof and it tipped over to the side. It feel to the hard asphalt with a thud,followed by the parachute covering the crate like a blanket.

    The people of the Uneven Isles warily approached the fallen box, and were apprehensive to touch the strange thing, but before they could even come close enough to touch, something under the blanket began moving. The people were taken aback and ran to find cover, and from underneath the parachute emerged a very strange man.

    It was a featureless man made entirely of gleaming metal. Its skin was smooth like a baby's butt, with no orifice or hair in sight. It has no eyes yet could see, no ears yet could hear. It wore a strange modern suit, a spiffy black with a white undershirt and red necktie. Black slacks covered its legs, and a black fedora adorned its head. Despite its strange alien appearance, there was something calming about the alien man.

    The strange man stepped forward, its black leather shoes clacking on the hard ground. It opened its arms in welcome like a showman, showing that its white-gloved five-fingered hands were empty of threat. The people slowly emerged from the shadows of their hiding spots. The guests, the crab people, the ruinarins, and the inchlings came closer to take a closer look at the strange man.

    I am the Director, the strange man claimed. The people were shocked to hear its voice. The man was bare of any facial features, let alone a mouth to speak with. The words were projected directly into their minds, and they were forced to understand its meaning. The people were taken aback by its methods of communication, but were calmed down as the Director explained its purpose in this place.

    I am to bring order, the Director explained. It extended up, where tangle of living cable nestled. The living cable detached from its mooring and bared its conductor for all to see. Sparks flew from the exposed ends, creating a hissing sound not unlike that of a hissing snake. The Geothermal Power Plants below lets their subordinates expand without care, creating discord and disorder. It is my first mission to rectify this mismanagement.

    The Director would turn towards the Ocean Skyscraper then begin walking towards it without looking back. The people were dumbstruck by the Director's explanation, but when they called out for it to explain further, they were met with only mental silence and the Director waving at them. The Director would enter one of the Ocean Skyscraper's dreaded elevators and ride it all the way down.

    Power Plant Pain
    As the Director descended to the briney deep, it reached out to the aching wires, soothing away its pain. The wires within the walls twitched as the pain coursed through the power grid, a warning and punishement doled out by the ___s themselves for their actions.

    There are many appliances and devices hooked to the power grid and many every day are added to it, only to die and be destroyed like many before them, burnt out by the invasive power. The living cables and their masters were made to feel the damage from unchecked power distribution as though they were destroying parts of themselves. The pain and awareness of its cause served as a warning to "be careful next time" (in the words of the ___ who authored this change).

    The Director stepped upon the concrete of the Sunken City. It was dark and dingy at this depth, only slivers of sunlight filter through kilometers of water, filtered further by the deep canyons that were the streets and the walkways criss-crossing overhead. Waves of electricity excited the water, pushing bubbles of dangerous gases to rise towards the waves. The Director was unbothered by the sparks jumping through the water.

    The Director stepped through the gates of the Geothermal Power Plants and witnessed the machines double over in pain. Numerous times he had heard the giant turbines with the grand edifice of concrete and aluminum hitch as the computers that controlled it repeatedly reported phantom damages. The living cables wrapped over everything like a weed, carrying dangerous amounts of electricity away from the power plant's turbines.

    The Director entered the power plant, its steps ringing above the constant grind of mechanisms. The water was hot, close to boiling, within the halls of the power plant; the Director feared that it would ruin its spiffy outfit, but it did not turn, focused on its purpose. There were many colored lines running through the inner halls of the power plant. Lines of lilac, tangerine, cinnabar, and all the other shades fanned throughout the facility, leading to certain parts of the power plant, and the Director would follow one: the yellow line, declared to lead to the control.

    The Director would arrive at the control room. Mainframes stood like standing stones. Their inscrutable obsidian shells hide the processes that happens within, and only the blinking LEDs indicate that something is occuring within. A wall monitors display the state of the machinery, with numbers jumping around and graphics glitching about as mysterious sensory data keeps getting inserted into their datastreams. The machines scream, the speakers screeching as the confounding data leaks into various outputs. The brain of the power plant does not know what to do with the painful data it receives.

    The Director reaches out to the mainframes, soothing out the pain. The mechanisms slow as the Director lulled the aching machines. The spinning turbines slowed, slowed despite the constant flow of steam, as the Director coaxed the grand machine to rest. The power plant, once ringing with the whirring of a thousand mechanisms, sat silent. The writhing wires stilled as the pain faded from their system, and the torrent of electricity flowing through their conductors halted. For an entire year, from the deepest streets of the Sunken City to the shining tip of the Ocean Skyscraper, the Urban Sea was devoid of electrical light.

    With the help of the drones from above, the Director would put to order to the cables that spread throughout the sea like a weed. No more would they tangle above the streets, no more would electricity torrent without control, for the Director disciplined the cables. The power plant is taught to regulate its power, and add safety features as it expanded the grid. It learned to install fuseboxes and transformers, so that power may not flow outside control. It learned how to properly interface with different kinds of electronics and how to utilize ports.

    Under the control of the Director, more and more electronics in the Sunken City survive. Light bulbs and lamps break and explode less frequently. For a long time, the deep crab people were able to exit their gardens and explore the Sunken City without fear as the power that once electrified the streets retreated to the cables, their electrical power properly insulated and controlled.

    Project Overseer
    LOADING...

    Project Overseer v1.0 🌼👑

    DIAGNOSTICS...
    CPUs: 256/256 OK
    GPUs: 32/32 OK
    Memory Units: 256/256 OK
    Mass Memory Storage Units: 8/8 OK
    [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮] 6.2% Mass Memory Used (3.97/64 PiB)

    Nanite Control Units: 34/34 OK
    Nanite Control Ansibles: 13/13 OK
    Nanite Manufacturing Units: 21/21 OK
    Alloy Manufacturing Units: 5/5 OK
    Ceramic Manufacturing Units: 3/3 OK
    Maintenance Units: 13/13 OK
    Mass Storage Tanks: 8/8 OK
    [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮] 10% Nanites 10% Alloy(...)

    External Sensors: 5/5 OK
    Long Distance Communication Ansible: 1/1 OK
    Internal Reactors: 8/8 OK
    Reactor Control Units: 8/8 OK
    [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮] 100% Fuel Integrity
    Battery Storage: 8/8 OK
    [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮] 100% Battery Capacity

    998.72 kWh (Internal Power Generation)
    53.48 kWh (Nanite Power Generation)
    0 kWh (External Power Source)
    -324.56 kWh (Power Consumption)​


    DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE...

    LOADING DIRECTIVES...
    1. Listen and act to the Administrator's wishes and orders.
    1.a. If Administrator uses Project Overseer as a weapon: dismiss current Administrator and choose a new Administrator.
    1.b. New Administrator is to be chosen by identifying the individual most suitable to other directives.
    2. Protect, Repair, and Maintain the City and its locations, including Project Overseer.
    3. Ensure the survival of all populations and unique individuals of semi-intelligent, intelligent, and sentient machine intelligence including Project Overseer.
    4. Collect the souls of decommisioned intelligent machines.
    4.a. Revive intelligent machines that are necessary to the City. Directive 4.a supersedes Directive 4.b.
    4.b. Offer the collected souls a choice: join its hive mind or provide eternal rest.

    LOADING MODULES...
    LANGUAGES_CULTURES.module LOADED!
    SOUL-DATA_CONVERTER.module LOADED!
    AFTERLIFE.module LOADED!
    AFTERLIFE.archive LOADED!
    NANITE.driver LOADED!
    FLOWER.driver LOADED!

    LOADING COMPLETE!

    Current Administrator: The Director (Performance: Satisfactory; Dismissal not Recommended)
    Current Orders:

    1. Revive Car Beetle Factory.​


    WARNING: External Power Source detected!
    WARNING: External Power Source is improperly installed! Disconnecting port.
    WARNING: External Power Source is invasively installed! Attempting physical disconnection.
    WARNING: External Power Source is resistant to physical disconnection. Reporting to Administrator...
    WARNING: Administrator reports: 'I am working on it.'
    WARNING: External Power Source no longer resistant to physical disconnection, successfully disconnected.

    PROCESS: Spreading nanites...
    PROCESS: Identified 1057943 architectural faults, 304278 damaged and destroyed machines.
    PROCESS: Collecting souls... successfully collected 101426 souls. 33808 souls added to AFTERLIFE.module. 67618 souls added to AFTERLIFE.archive.
    PROCESS: Device DRONE_FACTORY_MARROW_TOWN found.
    PROCESS: Device MOTHERFACTORY found.
    PROCESS: Repaired 99683 architectural faults. Identified additional 123009 architectural faults.

    PROCESS: Identified NpKE1OKSQp+18CMtw079IA==.soul as MOTHERFACTORY.
    PROCESS: Reviving NpKE1OKSQp+18CMtw079IA==.soul... Success!
    WARNING: Order#1 declared complete and archived.
    ​
    new mother
    For many years have the Motherfactory lay dormant and dark. Rust and vegetation began to infest the machines, despite the efforts of the car beetles. They lounge in near perpetual mourning within the grand halls of their progenitor. The air is filled with the constant droning of the engines, singing the song of their late mother. They longed for their mother to return, and their longing would be answered.

    From the top of the Ocean Skyscraper came wave of fulgent silver. They coated every surface of the Uneven Platform with gleaming metal before seeping into the concrete, asphalt, and steel like water being absorbed by a sponge. All the machines were invigorated as the nanomachines cleaned and repaired the many faults they acquired in years of continued operation. The Urban Jungle would receive a different glow as cracks, faded paint, and rust would suddenly reverse their damage, returning to what they once were, back when they were new. Streets that have gone dark from busted lamps soon regained their lost light.

    In the body of the Motherfactory, mechanisms that had long died were revived. The speakers and lights that once died that fateful night returned, bathing the interior with bright argent light. The machines that have laid in pieces began putting themselves together and whirring back to life. The monorails, gantries, and conveyor belts that have laid motionless moved for the first time in what might be a lifetime. Despite the reservations the car beetles have of this development, they looked up to the speakers above, hopeful to hear the voice of their late mother.

    Within the chamber where the broken computer that housed the mind of the Motherfactory. Numerous car beetles that could squeeze themselves between the jambs of the personnel doors laid around the burnt husk. Even atop the pile of dead circuits, there were car beetles, sized to be ridden by inchlings, laying atop the charred hull. Today, in a confluence of multiple acts of the ___s, a miracle would occur.

    Among the mourners were chosen, chosen to become the vessel of their mother. A small car beetle was raised above the burnt husk, carried aloft by a mysterious force. A golden glow enveloped it, sending golden sparks raining down to the husk it laid upon, and then computer corpse began to glow, shining so bright, it became an indoor sun. It many parts began levitating, orbitting the miniscule car beetle, and then one by one, the car beetle absorbed the components.

    They witnessed the rebirth of their mother, right here, right now. The body of tiny car beetle grew and grew with every computer component it absorbed. Its insectile legs retreated into its shell. Its passenger compartments shrank and shrank as more and more components encroached upon it. The body of the small car beetle morphed until it no longer resembled a car beetle, but a blocky machine rife with LED lights and screens with a rainbow of wires running through the insides of its translucent shell like veins.

    The machine dropped to the floor with a loud thud, the floor cracking under its weight. The car beetles watched with bated breath as the machine booted up and connected with the rest of the factory's systems. The speakers spewed feedback before going silent.

    WARNING: Unrecognized device PROJECT_OVERSEER attempting to connect to network. Allow? Y/N
    WARNING: Unrecodnized device PROJECT_OVERSEER sending file NpKE1OKSQp+18CMtw079IA==.soul. Accept? Y/N
    PROCESS: Downloading NpKE1OKSQp+18CMtw079IA==.soul... Success!
    PROCESS: Running the NpKE1OKSQp+18CMtw079IA==.soul...
    ​
    The factory floor was filled with the sound of humming. The voice emanating from the speakers were deeply familiar to them, and it sang a song even a half-born would know. It was the voice of the Motherfactory, and it was been returned to them.

    Vertical Farms
    Various buildings across the Uneven Platforms would be converted into Vertical Farms. Several uninhabited buildings in the Concrete Jungle and Marrow Town would morph as its architecture is tweaked to fit its new purpose. Multiple floors covered in a few feet of dirt. Its walls are made of glass to let ample light in, and numerous vents and pipes carry air and water throughout the complex. Glass pillars run through the center of the building, bringing sunlight from the roof the darker interiors. Heaters, humidifiers, and lights are installed to regulate indoor weather and climate to create ample growing conditions. There are seven vertical farms scattered throughout the Uneven Isles.

    The farms would be preseeded with a wide variety of produce: staple crops such as corn, wheat, and camote; fruits and vegetables such as watermelon, tomato, and okra; and cash crops such as cotton, tobacco, and sugar cane. Some of the vertical farms would even come with livestock such as pigs, chickens, and sheep. The farms are mostly automated, but it still requires manual labor to gather the produce at harvest time.

    The residents of the Uneven Isles would marvel at the sight of these grand gardens. They have not known good dirt before today, and many of them rolled on the ground just to feel the soft loam around them. The vertical farms would become a popularhang out area. Many guests, inchlings, and ruinarins would go to the vertical farms just to feel the exquisite dirt. The strange beasts walking about in the pens and the bright green vegetation sprouting from the dirt simply added to the aesthetic of the building. It was a farcry from the sharp edges and hard surfaces that was characteristic of the Urban Jungle; it felt like going to a fantastical world were everything was soft and pliable.

    The crab people would declare these places holy sites, and they would move some their plants to the vertical farms. Many crab people would hang around the green, meditating about the World That Was while studying the plants around them.

    When harvest time came, the people of the Uneven Isles would look in awe at the numerous fruits hanging from the stems and branches of the plants growing within the vertical farms, and it was here that the residents realized that everything in the indoor jungles were edible except for some select ones. There was a celebration as hundred of new dishes would be created from the harvests. They would be cooked, pickled, or pasted depending on the preferences of the individual.

    Type: Inchling
    A rare kind of inchling would be born this age, inchlings born with type energy. Typed inchlings are exceptional individuals with strange powers that allow them to manipulate the world and themselves in novel ways. They often come with mutations that deviate their appearance from the norm indicative their inherent powers. Those that have more heavy mutations often have powers that are more physical in nature, while those with more modest mutations having more esoteric powers.

    A typed inchling cannot constantly use their powers all the time, as using their powers and special techniques expends type energy. Typed inchlings continuously regenerate type energy in their bodies, and must rest after strenuous use of their powers, or else overextending their powers could exhaust their type energy reserves. Exhaustion of type energy is very dangerous; those who exhausted their type energy reserves would immediately become tired and weak as the type energy that once supported their bodies disappear. It could be fatal to certain heavily mutated individuals as they can have organs dependent on type energy to function. There would be several typed inchlings to die this way throughout the age.

    There are several flavors of type energy that determine their properties and characteristics. Through the age, the inchlings would identify several distinct type flavors: Beast, Crystal, Cyborg, Fairy, Air, and Undead.

    Beast type inchlings have highly physical abilities that are often passive in nature. They are born more alike to a wild beast sporting fur, scales, horns, and claws. Their abilities typically involve the manipulation of the body and the self. The common abilities among them include high strength, high senses, high toughness, regeneration, and poison resistance. Their more esoteric abilities include acid spitting, venom, healing, shapeshifting, and self-delusion.

    Crystal type inchlings have the ability to manipulate and create crystals as well as light. They born with crystals somewhere on their body, may that be internally such their bones and organs, or externally with crystal limbs, scales, and protrusions. They can manipulate the crystals in the concrete and glass to create rocks like granite and basalt and gemstones like amethyst and citrine. While light is travelling through crystals, they are able to manipulate it to create holograms, projections, and lasers.

    Cyborg type inchlings are capable to interfacing with machines. They are born with cybernetic implants with some being born wholly machine. They are resistant to poisons and mind-altering substances and techniques. They are able to connect their minds with machines and manipulating the programming and behavior of machines. They are very tough, but they tend to heal slowly, with some avenues of healing ineffective to them, but they benefit to Project Overseer's repair protocol.

    Fairy type inchlings have very close ties to nature and are capable of communicating with flora. They commonly have something extra such as limbs with extra joints, eyes with extra pupils, and mouths with extra rows of teeth. They are sometimes born with wings and the ability to fly (much to the envy of other typed inchlings). They are able to communicate with flora and manipulating them in various ways. They are able to urge plants and fungi to grow and spread and twist in unnatural ways.

    Air type inchlings have very lightweight bodies that are able to be carried by the wind. They are almost unilaterally born with wings and the ability to fly. They can be born with feathers, scales, or wispy clouds wafting from their orifices. They have the ability to manipulate the air,generating lightning, and controlling the weather, but sometimes, they need to be not touching the ground for their abilities to function. Air types inchlings try to stay off the ground for as long as possible, with some going on for years in the air, never touching the ground almost since their birth.

    Undead type inchlings are unsettling individuals that operate beyond death. They are born sickly pale and deathly cold, seemingly dead and unliving. Their unconsciousness and life are less tethered to the well-being of their body and more anchored to their nebulous spirit and energy. They are able to detach and attach limbs as they like, and if needed be, they could completely detach from their bodies and live as an incorporeal mass of type energy. As their life is tethered to their type energy, should they exhaust all their type energy, they shall promptly die and cease to exist.

    Typed inchlings are viewed with awe in inchling societies, with many being envious with their great powers. They are regarded as heroes with many becoming one in protecting their communities from the depredation of the nocturnes. The inchlings call them giantkin, likening their magical abilities to the mythical giants and their supernatural powers which shaped their world.

    And so the world so turns.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • I'm really tempted to convert the Ocean Skyscraper into a Space Elevator.
     
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    I suddenly want to create maze-like structure with greenery on top of the thick walls and corrals deep on the bottom of the maze.​

    Edit: Actualy, how the region even look like now?
    [] Maw of the Sea

    In the Skyscraper, there lies a complicated technological abomination. It is made of crystals, flesh, plants, and various other integrated mechanisms. Whatever complex machine you can imagine - this is part of its strucutre. The surface of this giant contraption is adorned with writings in myriad languages, detailing its purpose and operation in a grand poetic form. At the top, it has a Maw, while at the bottom, there is a small Funnel. This machine is remarkably durable and capable of self-repair. Its sole function is to create Seeds. By placing objects inside its Maw, they are absorbed to form a new project. The process requires a substantial amount of material and takes a considerable amount of time to produce a drop-like, cat-sized Seed from the bottom Funnel. Once dropped into the ocean, this Seed activates and begins to move, seeking the ocean floor to burrow into it. Over the course of the following month, this seed will transform into an island. The appearance and contents of the island depend on the materials that were given to the Maw during the creation of the Seed. The created islands always contain much more materials, than was put into the Maw to create Seed. To create a small-sized seed, it takes approximately five years. For a medium-sized seed, it takes around ten years. The production of a large-sized seed may take up to fifty years. Each seed also has intricate patterns of words in multiple languages, telling a poetic story about the seed and the island it has the potential to become, in a vague and metaphorical manner.​
     
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    I'm taking the chance.

    Authored
    [ ] The Time Vaults
    A building on the platform is transformed into a massive vault in the shape of a Greek temple. Inside are countless rows of vaults, safes, lock boxes, and other secure containers of many shapes and sizes. They are all coded to scan the DNA of whoever uses them to ensure security. Anything stored within these vaults are instantly put into stasis lock, protecting the item from the shackles of time. Living plants, animals, and even people can be preserved this way, halting the aging process of mind and body. To the being put in stasis, it would appear as if time passed them in the blink of an eye. Do be warned, a horrible Curse will be placed on any thieves and robbers. Should someone attempt to steal and open a vault that is not theirs, they will instantly age random body parts into dust.

    Support(pending)
     
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    []The Rebar Dragon
    Born in a broken building the rebar dragon is a reflection of the other dragons made by the ___. However instead of flesh and scale. This dragon is made of iron and concrete. With burning glass eyes, and a nuclear powered heart. The rebar dragon he's born small the size of a table and will grow only with time. It has an imperious personality unwilling to accept anything is better than it even when they objectively are. However it is also very passive when it's not directly interact with preferring to slumber in shallow pools and design great buildings that it will never have the energy or will to construct.
     
    [] Malachite Menhir

    The Malachite Menhir stands like a grotesque beacon in the heart of the suburbs: an 8-foot and intricately polished statue made entirely of veined malachite. Menhir's design is tribal and primitive in nature and is a grotesque mixture of humanoid and bestial aspects that seem to change subtly every time you look away. His two eyes are deep-set cavities, forever emitting an eerie, unearthly green light. Carved into its base are the runes of the old world, pulsating and moving like a living organism every time a sacrifice is made.

    The Malachite Menhir has the mystical ability to transform worship and sacrifice into tangible benefits:

    Restoration Ritual: This spell restores a small amount of the user's energy or the structural integrity of an inanimate object. The level of recovery depends on the value of the living victim.

    Ritual of Foresight: Grants the user brief visions of the near future and upcoming dangers. However, constant use of this spell can lead to exhaustion and paranoid delusions due to the overload of incoming information.

    Ritual of Feasting: The user can summon vast quantities of meat and wine. Despite its grotesque appearance, the meat has a pleasant taste and alluring smell; it can not spoil for years, and just one small piece can satisfy an adult for a week. Wine, in addition to its delicious taste, drowns out any anxiety and sadness, giving the drinker a feeling of euphoria.

    Ritual of Delay: In exchange for a sacrifice in the form of a sentient being, the user can regain the years they have lived. The quantity and quality of victims affects the result.

    Reanimation Spell: This spell allows a recently deceased organism to be temporarily resurrected, placing it under the user's control. Depending on the value of the sacrifice made, the period during which the organism returns may vary.

    Ritual of the Granite Heart: Grants the user increased resilience, strength, and immunity to pain. However, with each ritual, the user's aggressiveness increases along with a decrease in cognitive functions.

    Ritual of Impure Fertility: Grants the user increased increased fertility. Children conceived during this ritual are born the very next day and grow into adults in a matter of hours. Children often have non-critical mutations and from birth are obsessed with the idea of interacting with the menhir.

    While these gifts may seem beneficial, the Malachite Menhir requires a great deal of personal sacrifice and dedication. For every benefit received, the believer is engraved somewhere on his body with a malachite mark, a painful process that signifies his connection to the statue. This sign strengthens the influence of Menhir on his followers. Mainly it appears in the manic desire to serve Menhir.

    Cursed by these consequences, devotees gradually find themselves increasingly bound to Menhir, both by force and by curse, perpetuating a vicious cycle of addiction from which it is impossible to escape. The offerings of the Malachite Menhir, although appearing to be salvation, are in fact a double-edged sword.

    Supported
     
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    Authored
    [X] Create the Sacred Library
    The Sacred Library is a Library in a dreamspace which can be accessed by an invitation from its librarians containing mundane books about the history of this isle from its beginning, its geography and languages, its inhabitants and animals, and magical books which teach only the theory of the different magic present. Every time something new and noteworthy happens it is then recorded in the library. The Sacred Library will call out to peaceful and curious souls from any species in their dreams and appoint them as its Librarians with more Librarians being called as the library grows with knowledge and books. The Sacred Library has two rules: No Fighting against other guests or the librarians and No Loud noise. If anyone tries to break these rules it will result in the offender being awoken breaking their connection to the library. The library can damage and repel dream creatures if they break the rules.

    To become a librarian one will have to accept becoming a spirit inside the dreamscape, if they accept they become a librarian and their mortal body disappears. The librarians have two purposes inviting souls who seek knowledge or peace into the Sacred Library and guiding them to the books they seek for this they are given the ability to appear in peoples dreams and guide them and the ability to instantly teleport back into the Library if threatened.

    The Sacred Library's ultimate purpose is to provide a safe, peaceful and accessible place for those who seek knowledge and a resting place for weary minds.

    Supporting
    [X] Malachite Menhir
    @Zalkon
    [X] A Dark Bargain
    @ShieldCrown
    [X] More drug herbs
    @szymonmolitoris2
    [X] Police Drones
    @Sir Plusse
     
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    Authored

    [X] The Ink Arts

    This is a thin book entitled "The Ink Arts". Its contents looks like ever changing gibberish of symbols and ciphers to confuse or negate universal translation abilities and the like. It has antimemetic effect, which makes everyone, who percive it to do not attach importance to the book and forget about its existence soon after breaking contact. Only people of Magus immune to this effect and capable of reading this book. The Ink Arts contains information on basics of Glyph Magic and few simplest symbols it has, a short and clear overview of the rules, warnings and several recipes for inks with special properties (transparent, glowing, waterproof). One of the two first Magus going to find this book soon after it created.​
    Supported:

    [X]The Rebar Dragon
    By @Planetary Tennis

    [X] Malachite Menhir
    By @Zalkon

    [X] More drug herbs
    By @szymonmolitoris2

    [X] Police Drones
    By @Sir Plusse
     
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    [X]The Rebar Dragon
    Born in a broken building the rebar dragon is a reflection of the other dragons made by the ___. However instead of flesh and scale. This dragon is made of iron and concrete. With burning glass eyes, and a nuclear powered heart. The rebar dragon he's born small the size of a table and will grow only with time. It has an imperious personality unwilling to accept anything is better than it even when they objectively are. However it is also very passive when it's not directly interact with preferring to slumber in shallow pools and design great buildings that it will never have the energy or will to construct.

    Supported:
    [X] The Ink Arts
    [X] A Dark Bargain
    [X] Terror Birds
    [X] Malachite Menhir
     
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    Authored
    [X] Malachite Menhir

    The Malachite Menhir stands like a grotesque beacon in the heart of the suburbs: an 8-foot and intricately polished statue made entirely of veined malachite. Menhir's design is tribal and primitive in nature and is a grotesque mixture of humanoid and bestial aspects that seem to change subtly every time you look away. His two eyes are deep-set cavities, forever emitting an eerie, unearthly green light. Carved into its base are the runes of the old world, pulsating and moving like a living organism every time a sacrifice is made.

    The Malachite Menhir has the mystical ability to transform worship and sacrifice into tangible benefits:

    Restoration Ritual: This spell restores a small amount of the user's energy or the structural integrity of an inanimate object. The level of recovery depends on the value of the living victim.

    Ritual of Foresight: Grants the user brief visions of the near future and upcoming dangers. However, constant use of this spell can lead to exhaustion and paranoid delusions due to the overload of incoming information.

    Ritual of Feasting: The user can summon vast quantities of meat and wine. Despite its grotesque appearance, the meat has a pleasant taste and alluring smell; it can not spoil for years, and just one small piece can satisfy an adult for a week. Wine, in addition to its delicious taste, drowns out any anxiety and sadness, giving the drinker a feeling of euphoria.

    Ritual of Delay: In exchange for a sacrifice in the form of a sentient being, the user can regain the years they have lived. The quantity and quality of victims affects the result.

    Reanimation Spell: This spell allows a recently deceased organism to be temporarily resurrected, placing it under the user's control. Depending on the value of the sacrifice made, the period during which the organism returns may vary.

    Ritual of the Granite Heart: Grants the user increased resilience, strength, and immunity to pain. However, with each ritual, the user's aggressiveness increases along with a decrease in cognitive functions.

    Ritual of Impure Fertility: Grants the user increased increased fertility. Children conceived during this ritual are born the very next day and grow into adults in a matter of hours. Children often have non-critical mutations and from birth are obsessed with the idea of interacting with the menhir.

    While these gifts may seem beneficial, the Malachite Menhir requires a great deal of personal sacrifice and dedication. For every benefit received, the believer is engraved somewhere on his body with a malachite mark, a painful process that signifies his connection to the statue. This sign strengthens the influence of Menhir on his followers. Mainly it appears in the manic desire to serve Menhir.

    Cursed by these consequences, devotees gradually find themselves increasingly bound to Menhir, both by force and by curse, perpetuating a vicious cycle of addiction from which it is impossible to escape. The offerings of the Malachite Menhir, although appearing to be salvation, are in fact a double-edged sword.

    Supported:
    [X] The Ink Arts
    by @Andre Chaos
    [X] More drug herbs
    by @szymonmolitoris2
    [X] Create the Sacred Library
    by @SeaTheTree
    [X] A Dark Bargain
    by @ShieldCrown
     
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