- Location
- The Internet
Vote closed, thank you! 
Seeing Chaos: A Jujutsu Kaisen/WH40K Quest
- Thread starter Azremodehar
- Start date
05
New
- Location
- The Internet
You grin at his questions, wide and almost genuinely cheerful. It's always gratifying when an opponent frustrates themselves with you. And they always do it, almost every single one. Those who haven't… you prefer not to think about them too often.
"I'm Gojo Satoru," you reply, the simplest answer to the question of 'what' you are. Once, it would have been sufficient in and of itself. Once. A very long time ago. So long ago that even you are reluctant to quite face the weight of those years, that time spent in a static, oppressive prison.
You are now the oldest fart you've ever met, and you're not sure how to feel about it. At least you're still pretty. You think. You still feel the same, but it occurs to you that maybe the reason this guy keeps freaking out is that there's something wrong with your face?
…nah. You know yourself down to the last quark; you would know if you were different, or wrong somehow. You would. You are sure of it.
Right?
[] Right.
[] Stick a pin in that thought for later.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
"As for how I'm doing 'this'," you continue, without betraying your internal thoughts. "Do you know the story of Achilles and the Tortoise? It's like that." The man gives you a blank look, so you try again. "Zeno's Paradoxes?" The man's forehead wrinkles slightly. "Come on, this is classic philosophy, don't tell me you've forgotten the basics?"
The fist hanging in the air is starting to annoy you, so you reach out, and push it away. The man fights you on this, but you're stronger. Not as much stronger as you think you ought to be, but thoughts of cybernetics and genetic engineering flit through your head.
"What the hell are you talking about?" the man demands, and you wag your finger at him.
"Nuh-uh, I answered your question; it's my turn. So, uh-" here comes your existential angst "-what year is it? And where, exactly, are we?"
"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" He draws back as he asks the question, circling around you, as though you can't see behind you just as well as in front. In all fairness, after the vast gulf of years between your time and now, it's entirely reasonable that he has absolutely no idea.
"I asked nicely," you point out. You did, too, perfectly polite and not at all rude. He should appreciate that fact, because you didn't have to be nice. He reaches your back, and gives an experimental jab, finding it just as effective as every other attempt he has made. "That's really not going to work," you add helpfully. "You can't touch me. Not unless you can cross an infinite amount of space in a finite amount of time."
He makes a frustrated noise, and comes back around to face you properly.
"It is the 955th year of the 41st millennium," he grudingly allows. "And you are on the planet Gheistos."
41st millennium.
41st millennium.
You are old as balls.
You knew it had been a long, long, time, but somehow, you were unaware of how vast the gulf of time between when you went into the Prison Realm and really was.
No, vast doesn't cover it.
The amount of time that has passed is four times the entire span of human civilisation, the last time you checked. Enough time for multiple civilisations to rise and fall, enough time that everything you ever knew is certainly gone, dust and less than dust, vanished into the black depths of time.
No wonder this guy hasn't heard of Zeno's Paradoxes. He's probably never even heard of Greece. Hell, you're on another planet; he might never have heard of Earth.
Is he even actually human? The best part of forty thousand years is an awful lot of time; maybe even enough for new species to have evolved out of humans, or maybe been genetically engineered.
The possibilities spin through your mind, and you…
[] Ask him if he's human.
[] Ask about the curses.
[] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
[] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
"I'm Gojo Satoru," you reply, the simplest answer to the question of 'what' you are. Once, it would have been sufficient in and of itself. Once. A very long time ago. So long ago that even you are reluctant to quite face the weight of those years, that time spent in a static, oppressive prison.
You are now the oldest fart you've ever met, and you're not sure how to feel about it. At least you're still pretty. You think. You still feel the same, but it occurs to you that maybe the reason this guy keeps freaking out is that there's something wrong with your face?
…nah. You know yourself down to the last quark; you would know if you were different, or wrong somehow. You would. You are sure of it.
Right?
[] Right.
[] Stick a pin in that thought for later.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
"As for how I'm doing 'this'," you continue, without betraying your internal thoughts. "Do you know the story of Achilles and the Tortoise? It's like that." The man gives you a blank look, so you try again. "Zeno's Paradoxes?" The man's forehead wrinkles slightly. "Come on, this is classic philosophy, don't tell me you've forgotten the basics?"
The fist hanging in the air is starting to annoy you, so you reach out, and push it away. The man fights you on this, but you're stronger. Not as much stronger as you think you ought to be, but thoughts of cybernetics and genetic engineering flit through your head.
"What the hell are you talking about?" the man demands, and you wag your finger at him.
"Nuh-uh, I answered your question; it's my turn. So, uh-" here comes your existential angst "-what year is it? And where, exactly, are we?"
"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" He draws back as he asks the question, circling around you, as though you can't see behind you just as well as in front. In all fairness, after the vast gulf of years between your time and now, it's entirely reasonable that he has absolutely no idea.
"I asked nicely," you point out. You did, too, perfectly polite and not at all rude. He should appreciate that fact, because you didn't have to be nice. He reaches your back, and gives an experimental jab, finding it just as effective as every other attempt he has made. "That's really not going to work," you add helpfully. "You can't touch me. Not unless you can cross an infinite amount of space in a finite amount of time."
He makes a frustrated noise, and comes back around to face you properly.
"It is the 955th year of the 41st millennium," he grudingly allows. "And you are on the planet Gheistos."
41st millennium.
41st millennium.
You are old as balls.
You knew it had been a long, long, time, but somehow, you were unaware of how vast the gulf of time between when you went into the Prison Realm and really was.
No, vast doesn't cover it.
The amount of time that has passed is four times the entire span of human civilisation, the last time you checked. Enough time for multiple civilisations to rise and fall, enough time that everything you ever knew is certainly gone, dust and less than dust, vanished into the black depths of time.
No wonder this guy hasn't heard of Zeno's Paradoxes. He's probably never even heard of Greece. Hell, you're on another planet; he might never have heard of Earth.
Is he even actually human? The best part of forty thousand years is an awful lot of time; maybe even enough for new species to have evolved out of humans, or maybe been genetically engineered.
The possibilities spin through your mind, and you…
[] Ask him if he's human.
[] Ask about the curses.
[] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
[] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
Forgot the threadmark @Azremodehar
Forgot the threadmark @Azremodehar
- Location
- The Internet
Acccckkkkk thank you, I'll fix that up right away!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Right.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask about the curses.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask about the curses.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[X] Right.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask about the curses.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask about the curses.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
DevilsAdvocate
Always follow the golden rule.
[X] Right.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask him if he's human.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask him if he's human.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[X] Right.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask him if he's human.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask him if he's human.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth
[X] Right.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask about the curses.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
[X] Two or more of the above. (Which?)
-[X] Ask about the curses.
-[X] Ask if he's even heard of Earth.
- Location
- The Internet
Vote closed! Thank you very much, it was close this time, so it'll take me a little longer to post the next bit.
06
New
- Location
- The Internet
"Have you ever even heard of Terra?" Is what comes out of your mouth. You mean to say 'Earth', but the word in this language is Terra, and so that's what comes out. Funny how that works, that knowledge, and the instincts that come with it. Who knew that gazing into the Abyss would give you a second language as thoroughly as your first? The phenomenon is curious to say the least, and you might devote some thought to the matter, once the current obvious crisis is dealt with.
[] Yeah.
[] Nah.
The sorcerer looks briefly confused, and then offended, brow wrinkling as he scowls deeply at you, jarred somewhat out of whatever thought process he had been working through.
"What kind of an idiot question is that? Of course I've heard of it! I've even--" he starts, before cutting himself off abruptly, his scowl transforming into something harder and craggier. If nothing else, this guy is good at making his face say things. "You'll not get more information from me that way."
"Yeah, sure." You wave him off dismissively. "Just to be sure, we're talking about the same planet here, right? Yellow sun, right smack between Venus and Mars?" Your gestures broadly describe the solar system as you speak. "One moon? Lots of people? ...are there still people there?" The man remains silent, thoughts still evidently turning over in his mind as he regards you. "Right. Starting now, I'm going to take silence as a 'yes,'" you declare, and your sharpest of eyes do not fail to see the tiny twitch at the corner of his eye. You let your grin tick wider. He's good at not showing anything he doesn't want seen, you think, but your eyes are better. You can read his microexpressions, and see the currents of his cursed energy, and those things give away something of his mental state.
He is very clearly annoyed. He is also angry, and getting angrier, and not just at you. Desperation is there, too, deep in his eyes and well-hidden.
"So, Terra, still a thing, good," you continue in the face of his silence, to all appearances completely ignorant of his mental and emotional state. "What about all these curses? There are a lot of them." You consider the disposition of the curses back on the battlefield, above you, and the more distant, much larger swell of cursed energy, and just what it means for the sheer volume of curses present. Or the power of those present; you have no doubt that there is at least one special grade among them. Statistically speaking, there has to be; even a million flyheads wouldn't light up like that to your eyes. Not at the distance they have to be from you.
Still, the sorcerer doesn't answer, circling you again, as though looking for a weakness. Sucks to be him, your only weakness has been dust for tens of thousands of years. Another thought to pack away for consideration later, when there isn't an army of curses not too far away--and growing closer. A chunk of the cursed energy has broken away from the main body, and is heading your way. Unsurprising; at least one or two of them has to both have some kind of intelligence, and the will to send forces after you.
It won't do them any good; you still have cursed energy to burn, but the people on the battlefield will be in trouble again soon. Maybe you should evacuate them to this bunker. There are barriers and protections built into it, and even if they aren't up to the task of containing you--nothing is, anymore--you think they might be turned to keeping things out as well.
"Why were you sealed inside that daemon box?" the sorcerer asks from behind you. His words don't interrupt your thoughts, because you have them that swiftly. You tilt your head and look back over your shoulder at him.
[] Answer his question.
-[] Shortly.
-[] In detail.
-[] In sarcastic detail.
[] Refuse to answer.
-[] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[] At all.
[] Forget this whole line of questioning and go see if one of the people you saved would be more amenable to conversation.
[] Forget conversation at all; those curses are more important.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
[] Yeah.
[] Nah.
The sorcerer looks briefly confused, and then offended, brow wrinkling as he scowls deeply at you, jarred somewhat out of whatever thought process he had been working through.
"What kind of an idiot question is that? Of course I've heard of it! I've even--" he starts, before cutting himself off abruptly, his scowl transforming into something harder and craggier. If nothing else, this guy is good at making his face say things. "You'll not get more information from me that way."
"Yeah, sure." You wave him off dismissively. "Just to be sure, we're talking about the same planet here, right? Yellow sun, right smack between Venus and Mars?" Your gestures broadly describe the solar system as you speak. "One moon? Lots of people? ...are there still people there?" The man remains silent, thoughts still evidently turning over in his mind as he regards you. "Right. Starting now, I'm going to take silence as a 'yes,'" you declare, and your sharpest of eyes do not fail to see the tiny twitch at the corner of his eye. You let your grin tick wider. He's good at not showing anything he doesn't want seen, you think, but your eyes are better. You can read his microexpressions, and see the currents of his cursed energy, and those things give away something of his mental state.
He is very clearly annoyed. He is also angry, and getting angrier, and not just at you. Desperation is there, too, deep in his eyes and well-hidden.
"So, Terra, still a thing, good," you continue in the face of his silence, to all appearances completely ignorant of his mental and emotional state. "What about all these curses? There are a lot of them." You consider the disposition of the curses back on the battlefield, above you, and the more distant, much larger swell of cursed energy, and just what it means for the sheer volume of curses present. Or the power of those present; you have no doubt that there is at least one special grade among them. Statistically speaking, there has to be; even a million flyheads wouldn't light up like that to your eyes. Not at the distance they have to be from you.
Still, the sorcerer doesn't answer, circling you again, as though looking for a weakness. Sucks to be him, your only weakness has been dust for tens of thousands of years. Another thought to pack away for consideration later, when there isn't an army of curses not too far away--and growing closer. A chunk of the cursed energy has broken away from the main body, and is heading your way. Unsurprising; at least one or two of them has to both have some kind of intelligence, and the will to send forces after you.
It won't do them any good; you still have cursed energy to burn, but the people on the battlefield will be in trouble again soon. Maybe you should evacuate them to this bunker. There are barriers and protections built into it, and even if they aren't up to the task of containing you--nothing is, anymore--you think they might be turned to keeping things out as well.
"Why were you sealed inside that daemon box?" the sorcerer asks from behind you. His words don't interrupt your thoughts, because you have them that swiftly. You tilt your head and look back over your shoulder at him.
[] Answer his question.
-[] Shortly.
-[] In detail.
-[] In sarcastic detail.
[] Refuse to answer.
-[] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[] At all.
[] Forget this whole line of questioning and go see if one of the people you saved would be more amenable to conversation.
[] Forget conversation at all; those curses are more important.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Yeah.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Yeah.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Yeah.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Yeah.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
[X] Refuse to answer.
-[X] Unless he tells you about the curses.
-[X] If he answers than answer In sarcastic detail.
- Location
- The Internet
Vote closed.
07
New
- Location
- The Internet
"I'll tell you if you tell me about the curses," you offer, very reasonably. Maybe too reasonably; the reasons you were in the Prison Realm touch on a bitterness and pain you try not to dwell on. It's keener now, than it was in all the time in the Prison Realm though, your emotions closer to the surface without its dampening effects. It's worse now, too, since it's not just Suguru you've lost, but literally everyone and everything. All that's left is what's in your pockets.
No students, no Shoko or Utahime, no Mei Mei or Nanami, not even those useless old bastards who thought themselves your superiors you should have killed them all when you had the chance. No school, no Japan, no--well. Earth is still there. But nothing else is left. Nobody. Not one soul in the whole damned universe.
For all your efforts, you truly are alone.
And yet… And yet. There are still people fighting the good fight, standing between humanity and curses, and even if it blatantly sucks that they still exist, even on this world so far from Earth that the planet only exists as a vector in your senses, there's something hopeful about that.
A little.
A tiny bit.
It's a sign not to give up on these people yet, anyway. Now if you can only convince this guy that you're actually on the same side…
He finally stops circling you, facing you once again with a frown on his face again, fingering a ring on his left hand in a way that's meant to subltly draw attention to it. Or 'subtlely'; you're sure he wants you to notice, so you make sure you keep eyes on both his hands, his feet, and his face for good measure.
"You truly do not know?" the man finally asks. He turns the ring around on his hand, once, twice, and you can see something on it flash. He turns it the other way, once, twice.
"I don't know anything that happened here before you let me out," you admit. "It'd really help me out if you told me what's going on, so I can make it stop."
"Very well." He turns the ring again, but you give it no more attention than before. "Assuming you mean daemons when you say 'curses', and that you are in fact sincere--" He tells you what he knows: That through some heretical means or another, a Warp rift has been torn asunder and a foul army of daemons has been unleashed on the surface of Gheistos. The armies of Khorne and Nurgle alike plague (in the latter case literally) the planet, more than the embattled Imperial forces can handle, more by the hour, by the minute--
None of that means anything to you, of course.
You can put the pieces together into something like this: Someone or something has opened a portal to another dimension, one teeming with more curses than should be physically possible. The answer seems obvious enough: blow through the curses--'daemons' in future-speak--and destroy the source.
[] Let's do that.
-[] Alone
-[] It's dangerous to go alone; bring help.
[] Gather more information first.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
While you consider that, you uphold your side of the bargain.
"So, you asked why I was in the box? Well, once upon a time, a very bad man was riding the corpse of my very best friend, so that he could distract me long enough to lock me away so that he and his army of curses could horribly kill all of my students and everyone else in Japan and maybe the whole of Terra while he was at it." You pause, thoughtfully, and a proud smile breaks across your face for a moment. "I guess my kids must've stopped him after all, since humans still exist!" Humans and Earth both still exist, and humanity has grown and spread across the stars--and brought its curses with it.
"Ah. And when, precisely, was this?" The man turns the ring again; the habit is beginning to get annoying. You know he's doing it on purpose; you just can't divine why. It's not a cursed tool; you would recognise that right away.
[] Time to blow his future mind--tell him.
[] Lie. (How?)
[] Something else? (Write-in.)
No students, no Shoko or Utahime, no Mei Mei or Nanami, not even those useless old bastards who thought themselves your superiors you should have killed them all when you had the chance. No school, no Japan, no--well. Earth is still there. But nothing else is left. Nobody. Not one soul in the whole damned universe.
For all your efforts, you truly are alone.
And yet… And yet. There are still people fighting the good fight, standing between humanity and curses, and even if it blatantly sucks that they still exist, even on this world so far from Earth that the planet only exists as a vector in your senses, there's something hopeful about that.
A little.
A tiny bit.
It's a sign not to give up on these people yet, anyway. Now if you can only convince this guy that you're actually on the same side…
He finally stops circling you, facing you once again with a frown on his face again, fingering a ring on his left hand in a way that's meant to subltly draw attention to it. Or 'subtlely'; you're sure he wants you to notice, so you make sure you keep eyes on both his hands, his feet, and his face for good measure.
"You truly do not know?" the man finally asks. He turns the ring around on his hand, once, twice, and you can see something on it flash. He turns it the other way, once, twice.
"I don't know anything that happened here before you let me out," you admit. "It'd really help me out if you told me what's going on, so I can make it stop."
"Very well." He turns the ring again, but you give it no more attention than before. "Assuming you mean daemons when you say 'curses', and that you are in fact sincere--" He tells you what he knows: That through some heretical means or another, a Warp rift has been torn asunder and a foul army of daemons has been unleashed on the surface of Gheistos. The armies of Khorne and Nurgle alike plague (in the latter case literally) the planet, more than the embattled Imperial forces can handle, more by the hour, by the minute--
None of that means anything to you, of course.
You can put the pieces together into something like this: Someone or something has opened a portal to another dimension, one teeming with more curses than should be physically possible. The answer seems obvious enough: blow through the curses--'daemons' in future-speak--and destroy the source.
[] Let's do that.
-[] Alone
-[] It's dangerous to go alone; bring help.
[] Gather more information first.
[] Something else? (Write in.)
While you consider that, you uphold your side of the bargain.
"So, you asked why I was in the box? Well, once upon a time, a very bad man was riding the corpse of my very best friend, so that he could distract me long enough to lock me away so that he and his army of curses could horribly kill all of my students and everyone else in Japan and maybe the whole of Terra while he was at it." You pause, thoughtfully, and a proud smile breaks across your face for a moment. "I guess my kids must've stopped him after all, since humans still exist!" Humans and Earth both still exist, and humanity has grown and spread across the stars--and brought its curses with it.
"Ah. And when, precisely, was this?" The man turns the ring again; the habit is beginning to get annoying. You know he's doing it on purpose; you just can't divine why. It's not a cursed tool; you would recognise that right away.
[] Time to blow his future mind--tell him.
[] Lie. (How?)
[] Something else? (Write-in.)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Let's do that.
-[X] Alone
[X] Time to blow his future mind--tell him.
-[X] Alone
[X] Time to blow his future mind--tell him.