Last Time:
"No. I don't care how risky this is," they said, bounding over another pile of kobold corpses. "It's genre shift time. I am DONE with generic fantasy. I don't care if this is some Moron-Generous Enchiridion shit, I'm getting into that giant robot."
The Time Before Last Time:
Two figures stand facing each other in the Valley of Gold. Each thundering impact between them shakes a cloud of moonlit dew into the air. Each exchange leaves another scar on an otherwise perfect land. Each moment of battle stretches thinner, asymptotically slower than the last.
Ten-thousand metallic wires shiver through a crystalline mist of amber light. The infinitesimal droplets hang in place like a photograph of summer rain. Air groans and buckles under the force with which it is shoved aside, the successive thunderclaps of the metal's passing drawn out to the point of indistinctness. Deflecting off of frozen particles, metallic strands snap into one another with a howl of gouging metal. Inch-by-inch, the assault fails.
But few defensive techniques are perfect.
A lone whip hungrily threads the eye of the needle, twisting through the blockade to just barely brush the front of a breastplate: a whisper-faint kiss of impact.
With the whip-crack of a sonic boom, a dozen shards of the finest lumaril are roughly translated into a wave of glowing shrapnel. A body follows the fragments through the air, burning in a cone of fire and spinning left-to-right like a top before plowing into a nearby hillside. Newly liquid dirt geysers from the impact with a dull thump, matter ejecting through cracks in the fine layer of impact-glass that coats the crater's bottom.
Deep in the sucking mudhole, the hero blinks and sucks in a pained breath.
"FUCKING—THAT WAS A GIFT! DICK!"
A Time That's Pretty Far Back There, But Still Within The Bounds Of What Most Would Think Of As Narratively Relevant:
Currents of thick ichor run down your arms from your hands, your tabard, falling down into the cave dirt and spreading out like a gelatinous crimson dessert. You pull your arm from the bloody crater in the side of the beast whose body looms over you, even in death. The riotous screams of battle died away upon your last attack, a catastrophic blow that stole away all vascular movement and lensed it back through the heart. Now, all is quiet. You wait.
The face of the rock above you begins to scrape and waver. It splits, then splits and splits again, falling away in haunting fractals that carve the shape of the air. A foreboding knell of pressure descends upon the cavern floor, driving you to your knees. Another toll of sheer force falls upon you, pulping the draconic corpse of your former enemy in the process. Another descends. And another. It continues, the crushing power growing deeper and more horrific in its enervation of your spirit. Gradually, the pressure seems to spiral outwards, and upwards, above perception, leaving a simple but unmistakable feeling: fear.
When your trial is finally complete, a hanging spike the size of a man is revealed: a shifting gemstone which burns with molten viridescence. A tuneless flock of intersecting orchestral strings hum from it, asking an uncertain question:
[ ] A Thousand Faces
"I grow weary. Put an end to this journey, and send me home."
For every hero, eventually, there is an end to their quest. Some even return home, though those that do are changed. You are translocated back to the place of your birth.
+Retain your mastery of Flow; be the most personally powerful individual on Earth
+Save humanity from itself; save your family from their inevitable mortality
+Fun dynasty building quest arc, changes the style of play entirely
~You like arguing about build votes, so why not also simultaneously argue about contemporary politics??!? Good clean fun!
-So much temporal power concentrated on a single individual provokes constant questions about the nature of ethics
-Difficult to magically progress
[ ] Negative Jumpsuit - 7 Telos
"My life is a bridge between two worlds; allow me to serve the role properly."
One's history is indelibly written on their skin and bone, demarcations of a life's worldline penciled into flesh. Become able to personally translocate between any two spatial volumes your body volume has previously occupied. Open portals between universes, with both portal end-volumes contained within a volume of planet-relative space your bones have previously occupied.
+More chances to improve personal power.
+If things get too spicy on either world, yank that translocation ripcord for instant escape
+Retain post-Isekai social development (Waifus)
-Responsible for solving two world's problems
-Literal bone hurting juice
-Wish might have broader consequences re:higher dimensional topology. (Hope you like Eldrazi. And also maybe osteosarcomas.)
[ ] Evening Torus - 13 Telos
"Distill and exalt my mastery of Flow into something beyond mortal ability."
Life is marked by rhythm. Your breath, your heartbeat, your magic, all simply extensions of this principle. These emanations of life are removed from you, their essence clarified into a Ring of great power. Now, your domain is the Evening, the liminal time where the last droplets of daylight await their end; call forth Reality Effects related to this Concept with sufficient inspiration and training.
+Immensely greater power potential.
+Excuse to wake up late and fall asleep late
+Rings are cool. Liches are cool. Liches with Rings??? Kickass.
~The ring is inextricably bound to you, as it is an extension of your selfhood. Can't be stolen or subverted. But if it's destroyed you're probably kaput.
-No immediate way home; you'd have to get a lot of practice with a very complicated Effect
-Relying so heavily on magic that manipulates progressive boundary conditions is going to have serious consequences...lemme just see that gender identity real quick….
[ ] Transcendental Dude Kickflips the Samsara - 19 Telos
"I'd like to be able to do a kickflip. That alright?"
Power incomprehensible may forge a worthy tool of any origin or form. The concept of Kickflips is squeezed of essence to produce an indestructible and very rad Skateboard. It's not just any skateboard; it's the Skateboard.
+You can do a sick kickflip. Mastery of Flow means that skateboarding Tricks extend further than one might think.
+Finally, you've achieved your most fundamental goal: being Pretty Rad
+Grants the greatest immediate power of all the options, with no apparent downsides
-Someone could steal your deck
-Did you industrially revolutionize the mining and production of Omakes? No? Didn't think so. Telos debt is, in fact, gonna get ya.
-Not sure how you'll get home, but surely if you learn enough sweet Tricks, a path will open itself?
[ ] Numerology - 23 Telos
"Some of these descriptions and arguments are pretty confusing. I feel like I'm missing something?"
Know...math. And also some logic.
+Free lifetime subscription to all numerical and logical concepts, including the most important numbers, 1-25!
+Don't know what a "transfinite cardinality" is? Don't understand the statistical analysis another poster used to justify their build vote?? You always use the phrase "begging the question" incorrectly??? Trouble with tetration???? No problem!
+Knowledge is the strength beyond strength
-Being offered "logic and math" together under the label "Numerology" doesn't prove logical positivism true in-universe, sorry. Also, it's not magic.
-The more complicated an argument you can understand, the more the arguments about build votes become more complicated than you can understand: the real Infinite Singularity Husk.
-Won't allow you to return home. I...I think? Wait, let me check that one and get back to you.
[ ] Praxis Access - 27 Telos
"Give it to me. The Thing. Do it. You know what I want. YOU KNOW."
What is a Rihaku quester? Just a miserable pile of build votes! A Combat-Type Cursebearer will arrive and grant you access to a thin shadow of the Royal Praxis using one of their Remittances, in exchange for the remainder of your mostly unformed Wish.
+lmao
+All the classic build vote flavor, none of the calories!
+Access to the Praxis, the Accursed's personal casting style.
+Lorewise, enough satisfaction to rehydrate a dessicated corpse
-Highly doubt you have had the self control to save this much Fundamental Purpose for the end of a quest arc
-The Cursebearer is giving you a very secondary sort of access; your degraded copy can only be called a Knightly Praxis.
-Grants no immediate power or utility. Guess you aren't going home for a while, if ever.
-This sort of contact attracts more heat than you might be able to withstand without the immediate power gain which you explicitly aren't picking
-you won't; no balls
Now:
"I cannot believe that you simply found such an interesting Astral Artifact like this in the woods! Good sir, my estate will pay you handsomely for such a thing, if you are willing to sell?"
They looked at her with half-lidded eyes, expression exceptionally blank. "No."
"Ah! Well, my friend--what did you say your name was?--are you sure you won't reconsider?" She anxiously circled around the foot of the Giant Robot that they were seated on, her tan sundress unpleasantly contrasting with its black-and-white patterning. "There must be something I can offer you that you might want…?"
They narrowed their eyes, almost imperceptibly. "...are you fucking propositioning me?"
She cocked her head in confusion. "Yes, I thought that was quite clear? I am trying to buy this fascinating machine from you? Hopefully for some sort of price that will not impoverish me. We have a large collection of inherited Artifacts: perhaps a trade of some kind would be possible?"
They put their right hand over their eyes, slowly squeezing their fingers together over the skin above their eyebrows. "Mmmmmmmmmokay. That's not going to happen. But I think we might be able to work something out. What's your name?"
She pursed her lips and tilted her head side-to-side a little bit, processing, before resignedly clicking her tongue and beginning to speak. "I'm Claribel von Asterie,--
"Oh Jesus Christ."
"--incipient Marquess of the Tenhills in the Kingdom in Stone. Would you do me the honor of giving your name, as well?"
"Alright, Claire?" They squinted a bit at her, as if examining her at a greater and stranger depth, and then nodded to themselves. "Claire. Here's the deal: there is no goddamn way that I'm giving you this robot. Not that you could use Corpseculum, because I doubt you have the affinity. But I will let you look at it as long as I am not using it, if you'll answer me a few questions and do me a few favors."
She attempted to maintain a placid demeanor, but the slight bounce of her heels gave her away. "Ask your questions and name your favors, sir, and I will decide whether or not to accede."
They rolled their eyes good naturedly, before turning them back to examine her. "What's so important to you about this "Artifact"?"
Her expression fell just a touch. "Well, I'm not sure how much you know about local matters, but the essence of it is that Tenhills is the shield between the Pearl Waste and the rest of the kingdom. The use of Artifacts is the only way to deal with powerful beasts that cross into our lands."
They frowned. "Huh. And most artifacts aren't easy to use for fighting, are they?"
She smirked. "Actually, I'm a first rate Cosmachinist! Up until now, most of my time was spent making weapons out of Artifacts and studying them." A moment, then she was mostly somber again. "But ever since my uncle and cousins have fallen ill, I've had to take a more active hand in running the territory."
"Oh, your family is sick? Just them, or…?" they said.
"No," she shook her head. "A mysterious wasting illness has overtaken several areas of the Tenhills, leaving many direly sick. As if that weren't bad enough, Astral Beast attacks have been more frequent, the neighboring Whitemark Territory is attempting to secede from the kingdom, and there's political turmoil in the capital over a strange cult of arsonists! I want to have... "Corpseculum"...because I don't see any other way to stabilize things."
"That's like five plot hooks."
"Sorry?"
"I said that I'll help, I suppose." They suddenly looked weary, but recovered themselves quickly. "If you'll put me up and agree to some material assistance, I'll kill some Astral Beasts for you and let you examine this old hunk of shit." They slapped the robot, a groaning echo from the internals of its foot his seeming response."
She finally gave in to a friendly smile. "Yes! Wonderful, I agree to those favors. Now, we're a half-day from my estate by my travel. I assume you have some way of moving this thing, seeing as you arrived here rather suddenly."
They chuckled "Yeah, well, Corpseculum is fast, but this sleepy fucker can only move for a couple of hours a day; he just naps like a big cat the rest of the time."
She covered her mouth with a hand, lightly tittering. "Well, I've certainly heard of greater oddities. I suppose we'll wait here until tomorrow, then be on our way? I came prepared to make camp, so long as you will oblige me by gathering some firewood, it should be no trouble."
They looked at her with amusement. "A lady like you, camping? This is getting interesting already, Marquess." They paused, weighing their options. "Actually, I only need until sunset to get him running. No need to get yourself set up under the stars."
They turned away, as if to climb up to the cockpit, and then turned back to flash her a small smile. "Oh, and you can just call me Vesper."
----
Corpseculum: The Armament of Twilight
-Affliction: Affliction of Slumber. Corpseculum can only operate for 8/24 hours. However, its operational parameters are greater the closer its operational hours are to a Twilight.
-Affinity Measures: Twilight, Sleep, Dreams, Boundaries, Curses
-Appearance: Black and white plates, almost chitinous, break up the surface of a hunched bipedal body with a strangely round and large head, covered in strikingly noticeable phalanges.
-Potential Synchronicity Advancements:
Dread Comet,
???,
Evenstar Sets,
???,
???
----
Lost my name, gained a ring.
Lost my place, became a king.
Live in endless, interesting times:
Waifu/Giant Robot paradigm.
Did my best with the dialogue on this one. I'm not too practiced at fiction, which shows.
Final boss destroy the sweet armor you got from a ++++++++ social link? Don't worry, they'll just say something like "It doesn't matter as long as it protected you." I guess Good Friends are the One True Isekai path. (Not that armor vs. cloth makes a difference when you can conceptually Still things, but gifts are nice.)
Vesper should've picked the red option, but even kickflips can't compete with rings...rings too cool…almost as cool as swords
Once again I am forced to delay on-screen Power Rangers battles with Astral Beasts, due to lack of canonical piloting descriptions. Someday…*wistful sigh*. While I was writing this, we at least got more lore….