The first red and yellow pair of Rallamtan.
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Ral Turgyt and Tan Ferqen
Month: March 2022
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Anansi
After paying Nyame’s price for the box containing the web of stories, Anansi the Trickster has had numerous students. He wondered what one of his students would be like if he turned evil. A series of events led to the creation of Khan, his greatest mistake. After a time, he gained the help of Megumi, Optimus, and Arsha to stop Khan and reunite him with Khan’s genetic template.
A clone of the original Author, he broke away from Anansi’s teachings and gained control of the Tome and assuming leadership of a breakaway Borg Collective and rechristening them as the Lords. He broke several deceased villains out of Hell and now wishes to rewrite the Multiversal Timeline using the Sources of the Apocalypse and Flourishment, as well as the Master Wand, the Time Amethyst, and the Mirror of Reality, each in the respective possession of Arsha, Megumi, and Optimus. He is NOT one to be underestimated.
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Weaver’s Journey 8
With Anansi having fled and my donor and his parents out of the way, I could continue my plans unimpeded. I had to make alliances and I knew where to start. There was a universe called N-3-W-M-0-R-D-0-R, run by Orcs, Trolls, and wicked Men. I asked to meet their Dark Lord for a meeting with another person. I then contacted 5-H-0-C-K-3-R-U-M-8-R-4 and requested to meet with their leader. We decided on holding the meeting aboard the Imperium. Sonavok, Ziddet, and I waited patiently until the Collective gave a report in our heads. “Two vessels have been detected,” it said. “One Ancalagon-class vessel. One Predator-class vessel. Both on intercept course.”
“Let them come within transporter range and hail them,” I ordered. The Ancalagon-class vessel was shaped like the first of the flying dragons Morgoth created for his armies and the Predator-class vessel was a purple saucer. Once the vessels were close enough, I hailed them. “This is the Imperium. You are cleared to send your ambassadors aboard.”
“This is the Gorgoroth, sending over our Dark Lord,” replied the Ancalagon-class vessel. Just then, Gorshagh shimmered into view.
“This is the Relentless, sending over our Great Leader,” answered the Predator-class ship. Metaltron appeared.
“Welcome, my friends, to the Imperium!” I greeted the two. “May I offer you two refreshments? Grog or some wine?”
“Save it,” grunted Gorshagh. “You said you wanted to meet us.”
“So, what prompts the Borg to want to negotiate?” asked Metaltron.
“Strictly speaking, they’re not Borg,” I corrected.
“As far as I can tell, you’re the only individual on this ship.”
“I can assure you,” interjected Sonavok, “we’re all individuals where it matters.”
“The Lords are quite different from our original Borg masters,” supplied Ziddet.
“…Okay, you’re more free thinking than I thought,” muttered Metaltron.
“Tell me, you both wish to command the multiverse, yes?” I asked.
“Yeah, your point?” grunted Gorshagh.
“What if I were to tell you I have the means to do so? To make you lot gods of a new multiverse?”
“…I’d back away slowly and call the nearest insane asylum.”
“Even if I had, say, the Tome?” Metaltron snorted in disbelief.
“That thing?” she asked. “That’s just a myth.”
“It’s no myth,” explained Sonavok. “We’ve been guarding it at the behest of Anansi.”
“Now that’s a lie!” scoffed Gorshagh. “Anansi doesn’t exist!”
“He does,” replied Metaltron. Gorshagh turned to her in confusion.
“I thought you don’t believe in legends.”
“I don’t, but Anansi is real. I saw him.”
“And I was his student at one point,” I supplied. “And the Tome is real.”
“Then show me the proof!” challenged Gorshagh.
“…All right. I have something in mind.” I then opened the Tome up, turned the pages to a passage I wrote, and read it aloud. “‘After the Tome snapped shut, the Relentless and the Gorgoroth reported that they had ended up hovering over a barren wasteland with a single cul-de-sac as the defining landmark.’”
“…What?” asked Gorshagh. I smirked and closed the Tome. After the Tome snapped shut, the Relentless and the Gorgoroth reported that they had ended up hovering over a barren wasteland with a single cul-de-sac as the defining landmark.
“Well?” I asked.
“…Okay, I’m convinced,” muttered Gorshagh.
“Godhood, you say?” asked Metaltron.
“It’s going to require the resources of Shocker Umbra and New Mordor,” I explained.
“Why the negotiations?” quizzed Gorshagh.
“You’re the only one that doesn’t fit with the Borg norm,” observed Metaltron.
“Strictly speaking, this entire mini-Collective doesn’t,” I corrected. “We only assimilate those that want to be assimilated.”
“Even then,” supplied Ziddet, “we still pursue our individual pursuits.”
“Besides,” I continued, “your resources aren’t exactly ones we can take like the Borg. Hence why the negotiations.”
“I see,” muttered Metaltron.
“And these resources are?” asked Gorshagh.
“Multiversal maps,” I explained. “Different types of starships. Soldiers. I need them to find the Sources of the Apocalypse and Flourishment, as well as the Master Wand, the Time Amethyst, and the Mirror of Reality.”
“Don’t you have the resources you want?” asked Metaltron. “This ship isn’t exactly standard Borg design, and you have Cubes, Spheres, and Probes with the necessary man-power for those ships.”
“For all the Lords’ superiority,” I replied, “we’re not exactly the most…inconspicuous of people. Even the Imperium’s outer hull gives away its Borg origins. We need people who can blend in somewhat.
“And that’s where we come in?” asked Gorshagh.
“Yep. Besides, you’re more experienced in multiversal travel. Your mutual defense compact allows one of your two factions to succeed where the other went wrong. And the size of your armies are definitely nothing to sneeze at. So, what say you? Join me and become gods?” The two sides looked to each other.
“…I don’t know about Metaltron,” muttered Gorshagh, “but I say neither Yea nor Nay. I must consider this message and what it means under its fair cloak.”
“He’s right,” remarked Metaltron, “you talk very prettily and have a lot of power, but we need to be careful. We’ll tell you when we’ve made our decision.”
“Consider well,” I said, “but not too long.”
“The time of my thought is my own to spend!” snarled Gorshagh.
“For the present.”
“Let me warn you right now,” growled Metaltron, “rush our decision and, Tome or not, you WILL have a war on your hands. We have various anti-Borg strategies at our disposal.” The two summoned their ships to beam them out and leave. Once the ships left Hell’s skies, I smirked.
“We’ve got them,” I chuckled.
“Got them?” asked Ziddet. “They don’t seem convinced.”
“But there’s a chance for power,” I replied. “They won’t pass this up.”
“You’re sure about that?” asked Sonavok.
“One is a former Dalek; the other is a Middle-Earth Orc. They’re VERY good at choosing power.”
“…Very well.”
“In the meantime, I believe the denizens of Hell are currently enacting the plan. On screen.” A hologram of the cul-de-sac below us then showed the Oni gathering everyone up for a field trip. For some odd reason to the Oni, everyone looked compliant.
“All right, everyone!” called a red Oni woman in a blue dress, Lam Kelgyt. “It’s time for the wonderful castle tour!”
“You will see how we conduct our wonderful operations here!” said a yellow Oni woman in a blue dress, Tan Kelgyt.
“And don’t forget, any misbehavior will result in the removal of certain privileges!” warned a yellow Oni man in a red dress, Pai Urokeh.
“So follow us,” called a blue Oni man in a yellow dress, Tor Mefguf, “and let’s have fun!”
“That’s it,” I chuckled darkly, “go on and give them the means to free themselves.”
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Weaver’s Journey 7
I continued fighting Daiku and Ddraig as the Lords looked onwards. They were acting naturally and stood around with a few movements instead of standing like statues. I kept only the necessary voices in my head as I needed as much data as I could on how they even got onto my ship in the first place! The shields were up, for a start! The fleet outside was constantly updating its software, but I felt confident that I would break through it sooner or later. The Lords are still Borg in that regard.
“The Borg are still trying to break through our data encryptions,” warned M’Row’s Chief Engineer, a Vulcan man. “Altering encryptions once more.”
“I’ve noticed a distinctly longer pause between your reports,” remarked M’Row. “Is something up?”
“In this instance, what is ‘up’ is that the Borg seem to be toying with us like-”
“Like us Caitians?”
“I was going to say a Naussican, but your analogy will suffice, Captain.”
“I don’t like it, this isn’t normal Borg behavior,” I muttered. “…Unless…oh no!” A horrible thought went through my head.
“Sir?” asked M’Row.
“Get me the Tholian Ship!”
As I continued fighting, I could feel a form of panic in my bones. Oddly enough, it didn’t come from me, it felt like it came from somewhere else. Just then, one of my Cubes, the Juggernaut, got all the data I wanted. …Well, I may have wanted it originally, but that feeling died…almost as bad as my original’s parents will! With my supposed familial connections proven wrong, I stopped holding back. That forced them to fight harder. “Son, I promise you,” urged Daiku, “you won’t be harmed if you just surrender!”
“Surrender to the likes of you?!” I replied as I pulled out a light and dark Elementrigger. “I’d never be able to show my face!” I connected the two, then pressed the button.
“What’s the word?” asked my belt.
“Balance!” I replied. I then split the Elementriggers and swapped my base ones out for the paired ones. Light and dark then surrounded me.
“BALANCING ACT!” announced my belt. “WEAVER: YIN YANG FORM!” My suit became a blend of white and black.
“Son, you’re not thinking clearly!” urged Ddraig.
“I think you mean Clone!”
“…What?”
“A Cube got every scrap of data of my origins on Kamino!” I explained. “You used their cloning techniques to create a practice dummy just so you could learn how your son fights if he ever turned evil! Well, let me tell you now, your definition of good and evil, the one you instilled in him, is ANTIQUATED! You two will have no choice but to bury him!” In hindsight, since I’m the Author’s clone, I should have known better than to say that around a woman like Ddraig.
“NOT MY SON, YOU BASTARD!” She swapped out the device in her belt with a green one.
“Daeargryn!” (Earthquake!) announced the belt. Her armor became green and evoked Toph from the Avatar universe. She then charged at me and slammed her fist right into my solar plexus. Should have blocked that. I was winded temporarily, giving Daiku enough time to pull out a device. He pulled the Fandom Shield out and inserted it into the new device.
“PRIME! TRANSFORM!” called the device. He then inserted the new device into the belt and opened the Fandom Shield. New panels then extended from the device, depicting Primus and Unicron.
“Transformers: Prime!” called the belt. It then played the last segment of Transformers: Prime’s opening theme. His suit looked like that series’ version of Optimus and he gained the Star Saber. He raised the blade above me.
“You wouldn’t kill your own son, would you?” I asked.
“No, just pathetic copies!” replied Daiku. That bit of talking was all I needed to turn the weapons dial of my belt.
“ONINI SABER!” it called. My sword then blocked his, then wrapped itself around the blade and threw him across the deck!
“Should have kept your mouth shut!” I taunted.
“Have you examined yourself recently?!” replied my own voice from behind me. I turned to see my donor’s armored fist go straight across my face. When I recovered, I leapt to a balcony overlooking the whole thing.
“There he is!” I laughed. “The OG Kamen Rider Weaver, himself!”
“You don’t have any clue what OG means!” snarled my donor.
“Original Gangster,” I replied. “A similar phrase would be ‘old-school’. You know, backwards idiots like Mama and Dad!”
“KHAN!” roared Ddraig. “I’ll show you backwards!”
“Come down here and get your spanking!” snarled Daiku.
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU MORONS!” I finally shouted. “This is now between me and your son!”
“Then do as Dad said and come down here so we can end this!” growled my donor.
“Nah, patience!” I chuckled. “This is just the beginning! First, it has to HURT!” I punched my hand for emphasis. “Then, if one of the Lords beats you to the point that your transformations are cancelled, so much the better!” The Lords then moved around the three. “But if they don’t, well, that’s when the real fun starts!” The Lords, now no longer shackled by the original Borg programming, went on an aggressive attack pattern. The attack was too much for my duplicate and his parents and it knocked them out of their transformations. I cancelled my own as the Lords held them down. Anansi was surrounded as I pulled the Tome out.
“ANANSI!” called my donor. “HELP!” Anansi looked back and forth between the Lords and my donor…then vanished. “ANANSI!”
“That worthless arachnid won’t save you now,” I remarked. I opened the Tome to an entry I had written earlier and read it aloud. “‘Once the narration was finished and the Tome was closed, the original Author and his parents turned, rather painfully, into denizens of Arsha’s world, a Sea Dragon woman, a Sky Elf man, and their Blender son, then they passed out until they were brought to the Realms with a new past that worked within the Realms.’”
“What?!” yelped my donor. Once the narration was finished and the Tome was closed, the original Author and his parents turned, rather painfully, into denizens of Arsha’s world, a Sea Dragon woman, a Sky Elf man, and their Blender son, then they passed out until they were brought to the Realms with a new past that worked within the Realms. I turned to a Turei Lord.
“Get that fleet out of here,” I commanded him. “Sonavok, Ziddet, take my donor and his parents to the Realms. They will wake up in their home of Varshenta Beach and will have forgotten their old lives as humans, remembering only that they are Leumas Venchitak and his parents, Petramel Venchitak and Noletam Farginta.”
“What about their original universe?” asked Sonavok.
“…Destroy it. I want no further attachments.”
“As you wish.” I could see through the Collective that the combined fleet was pushed back into 5-T-4-R-T-R-3-K-0-N-L-1-N-3 and that a single Cube was making its way through the rift to find my donor’s old universe. Meanwhile, Ziddet dropped Leumas and his parents off at Varshenta Beach just a few years before Arsha began her tour. When they woke up, they wondered what the heck they were doing napping on the beach and headed to their respective jobs. All that was left was to watch the Civil War of the Damned.
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Weaver’s Journey 6
It took a few years and a lot of secret-keeping, but I finally got my own, personal ship! It’s built like a Borg Diamond, but the faces had triangular pyramids on them. It was roughly 500 meters longer on all sides compared to the 3,000-meter sides of a Borg Cube. I called her the Imperium, registry LS-0109. As is typical on a Borg ship, there were corridors lined with Drones and multiple redundant systems, including personal quarters for myself when I need some space. Each of my quarters had a bed, a kitchen with replicator, a bathroom, an art and writing station, and a tv with game consoles. As I was admiring the handiwork, the Collective’s voice rang throughout the ship. “A cross-faction fleet has been detected. Five Starfleet vessels. Three Klingon Defense Force vessels. Three Romulan Republic Vessels. Three Dominion vessels. One Tholian vessel. All are on an intercept course.”
“Alter course to meet them!” I ordered. I sat in the central throne as the Borg surrounding me stood in their alcoves, commanding the Imperium through their will.
“All stop,” reported the Collective. “The USS Jerome Horwitz is hailing us.”
“Open a channel,” I ordered. The Captain of the Jerome Horwitz appeared on the screen. She was a human that, judging by her prosthesis, was liberated from the Borg.
“This is Cassandra Harold of Starfleet,” she introduced herself. “Khan, we know what you’ve done after I retrieved my Captain’s Yacht. Surrender at once or your ship will be destroyed while you are taken into custody.”
“I won’t be surrendering any time soon,” I replied. “My ship’s hull has neutronium in it and nothing would make me happier than you giving me an excuse to prove it!” Anansi’s face then appeared. Judging by the Tholians surrounding him, I’d say he was on the Tholian ship.
“I trained you better than this!” he hissed.
“The Tome will finally give us all what we want without consequence! Wrongs will be corrected! Bad guys will fall like dominoes-!”
“And good guys will get the happy endings they deserve,” interrupted Anansi, “and everything will be wonderful! …Except, that’s where people like you get it wrong.”
“There are no people like me!”
“Sorry, but there ARE. You’ve become the two-bit terror you once hated!” How dare he!
“I am the hero the multiverse needs! With the Lords at my side, we’ll finally bring harmony to every single universe!”
“My own son!” hissed a woman’s voice that I could recognize while asleep. I whirled around to see my parents standing there!
“…You just had to get me to talk!” I snarled at Anansi. Mom growled as she stormed towards me.
“I raised you better than this!” she said. “I thought the Borg were your biggest nightmare!”
“And I made this mini-Collective into something greater!” I insisted. “I gave them all emotions and I installed creativity into them! They have their own identities now! Yes, they’re still a hive mind, but it’s not an oppressive one! I made these guys Lords!”
“Somehow,” remarked Dad, “I could hear the capital ‘L’. Boy, you’ve crossed the damn line!”
“…My own parents?!” I hissed, livid at this betrayal.
“You’re not thinking right!” urged Mom. “Come back!” Anansi’s replacement hopped onto my shoulder. It was a purely mechanical spider with the necessary power to maintain my suit and its various forms. It took a lot of trial and error, but I finally had it perfected. I brought out my base Elementriggers and the spider formed my belt.
“What’s the word?” it asked.
“Henshin!” I replied as I separated the Elementriggers and attached them to the belt. I transformed into Kamen Rider Weaver. Dad brought out his belt.
“FANDOM SHIELDRIVER!” it announced. He then brought out his base Fandom Shield and pressed the button.
“TRANSFORM!” it called out.
“Henshin,” said Dad. He didn’t sound like his heart was in it. He inserted the Shield into the ShielDriver, then pressed a button to open it.
“THE TRANSFORMERS!” called the belt. “Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticons!” He became Kamen Rider Daiku. Mom then brought out her own belt, sighing in grief.
“My own son, throwing away what we taught him,” she mumbled.
“When did YOU become a Kamen Rider?!” I asked.
“Believe it or not, this is my first fight. I just wish I had a different opponent.” As she put the belt on, I noticed it had a dragon motif to it. It looked like three circles with two dragons about to chomp on a circle each. She then pulled out a long card that looked like a dragon breathing fire. She slid the card into her belt and the circles glowed, alternating in different colors. “Henshin,” she said.
“Llosgi!” (Burn!) called the belt in Welsh. Flames surrounded her and her Rider suit formed. It looked like a classic flying dragon. In fact, the helmet evoked Draco from Dragonheart. I assumed my beginning pose, as did my parents. Dad started it.
“All the world’s a stage, but I’M editing this script! Kamen Rider Daiku!” I decided it was time for my new catchphrase.
“You face Kamen Rider Weaver, the Author of all Reality!”
“Kamen Rider Ddraig,” said Mom, using the Welsh word for Dragon. “You sure about that, Cupcake?”
M’Row, the blue haired Caitian Captain of the USS Tiger, tapped her finger on her armrest. She felt a little on edge. “This is nuts,” she hissed to herself.
“Captain?” asked her First Officer.
“Let’s just say I have a little…history with the Borg.”
“You’re fine around your XB Captains,” I remarked as I stepped onto the bridge. M’Row looked at me.
“Look, are you sure this was a good idea?” she asked. “Cloning yourself and letting it loose with Anansi like that?”
“To be honest, no,” I replied. “But I asked Mom and Dad to keep me in check one way or another and Anansi thought this would be the best way. There’s no way this is easy for them, though. I mean, they KNOW it’s a copy, but it still has my face.”
“I’m just surprised,” remarked M’Row’s Helmsman, “that the Borg aren’t attacking us.”
“Yeah, a little surprising,” I muttered. “I need to talk to Anansi, see what’s going on.”
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Weaver’s Journey 5
I had struck a friendship with Sonavok and an assimilated Cardassian woman named Eshett Ziddet. We usually had meals together, each one of us assigned a day when we cooked. I must admit, Romulan and Cardassian cooking is quite good, and they seemed impressed with the dishes I made so far. It was breakfast time, and I was the chef. I made some chocolate and banana pancakes (real healthy, I know. I had fruit prepared as well.) and set the table. The door chime then rang. “Enter,” I said. Sonavok and Ziddet came in. Ziddet sniffed the air.
“Do I detect chocolate?” she asked. “Hardly the healthiest of breakfasts.”
“Well,” I replied, “the Lords have been expanding quite nicely. Why not celebrate?” Ziddet chuckled.
“Fair point,” she conceded. I then served up the pancakes. Sonavok then put ketchup on his stack, like he does on all his foods, something Ziddet and I found odd.
“You’d be surprised how tasty it actually is,” remarked the assimilated Romulan.
“Well, you do you, I guess,” I muttered. “For me, though, I prefer the good old fashioned Vermont Maple Syrup.”
“I was under the impression that Canada produces better syrup,” mused Ziddet.
“Ah, don’t listen to them! Vermont’s the best!” The syrup came in a can, and I poured it all over my pancakes. Ziddet did the same with a different can (I don’t remember replicating two cans of syrup) and took a bite. As she chewed, her expression changed to one of confusion. It then turned into a look of panic as it looked like she was trying to open her mouth!
“M! MM MMMM M MMM!”
“What did you say?” asked Sonavok.
“MM MMMM M MMM!”
“That’s what I thought you said!” Sonavok then stood up and went to assist Ziddet.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Her mouth’s stuck!” replied Sonavok. I got up and the two of us tried to get her mouth to move. Our efforts were just like the Borg usually called resistance; futile.
“Maybe it’s something she ate,” I muttered. Ziddet then pointed at her plate. I got the hint! “Not my pancakes!” I took her plate and took a bite out of one of her pancakes to prove there was nothing wrong. …Didn’t work out too well. “Okay, I admit the pancakes ain’t exactly hot, but this is Vermont Maple Syrup! You can’t say no to that!” I scraped some of the syrup and gulped it down.
“Wait, which can did you use?” Sonavok asked Ziddet. She pointed to the can she used and Sonavok read the label. Just then, I noticed something was wrong with my mouth. Sonavok’s eye then popped open. “Er, which part of this ‘Vir-mont’ does Stix-fast glue come from?!” Glue?! Oh no! I had a can of glue out to work on an art project! I didn’t put it away. Ziddet read my thoughts through the transceiver and mumbled a flurry of Cardassian curses and swears. I mumbled an assurance and put the kettle on. The steam should melt the glue. The steam came out, then Sonavok took the kettle. Confused, I followed him. “Good idea, Khan!” he said. “The hot water should do the trick!” Ziddet and I read his thoughts and tried to stop him! He managed to hold us both down and poured the contents of the kettle all over our mouths! The glue melted enough to let our screams of pain out! “There, you see?” chuckled Sonavok.
“Got something against Cardassians, do you?!” snapped Ziddet.
“The steam would have been sufficient!” I supplied. “What did you think we were, lobsters?! You trying to boil us?!” We were about to continue berating him when an alert rang through the Collective.
“Target universe located,” reported the Collective’s voice. “Incursion ready.” I replicated ration bars and the three of us abandoned breakfast to get to our stations.
I had a small spy probe, shaped like an octahedron, fly into the universe and look at what was going on. Right now, it seemed like a cul-de-sac within a barren wasteland with people just wandering the area. The probe looked around and saw what looked like red, yellow, and blue clones of a man and a woman wearing dresses of the same colors. They seemed to have the personalities of eager psychiatrists, but I had a feeling that, given the nature of the universe, they were actually prison guards. The people WERE Oni (Japanese ogres). The men in dresses acted rather flamboyant, but very affectionate with everyone, man or woman. The ladies were just as affectionate and flamboyant as the men. The rest of the people were various villains wearing some form of ankle bracelet. I could spot Lord Dominator (the main antagonist of Wander Over Yonder’s second season), Aku (the big bad of Samurai Jack), Fire Lord Ozai (the villain of Avatar: The Last Airbender), Sauron, Saruman, the Nazgûl, Starscream, Skywarp, Sunstorm, the Terrorcons, Primacron, Oyed, Dr. Borg and her fellow Councilors, Intrag, Lord Vortech, Hiro, Igura, and a woman in a pink dress. “They’re all milling around,” remarked Ziddet as our cloaked cube hovered over the area. “I’m giving the order to attack.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” called an assimilated Bajoran woman.
“Why not?”
“Those ankle bracelets deaden the powers of everyone wearing them. We won’t be able to test their skill.”
“We’re not testing their skill,” I interjected. “We’re recruiting them as free agents. We won’t be assimilating them.”
“Why not?!” protested Ziddet and the Bajoran.
“They’re a little against assimilation. I won’t add them to our Collective if they don’t want it.”
“Won’t they work better as part of us?!” asked the Bajoran.
“…I was under the impression your old Borg programming was deleted.” That silenced her. “But you ARE right in that the ankle bracelets are a problem. The probe’s saying that they have a means of tracking their wearers on top of deadening their powers. The Oni are also a problem.”
“Especially their combined forms,” remarked Ziddet. …That was new to me.
“Combined forms?”
“According to the probe, the reason the men and women look the same is because they’re each twelve parts of one man and one woman. The women are all Rallamtan Ferkelturgytqen and the men are all Yemtorpai Uromefyekgufkeh. They can each combine into orange, green, and purple versions of themselves, and they all combine into a black version that makes up their greater whole.”
“There is a potential ally to help cause some chaos in that regard,” observed Sonavok through the Collective. Jatturlan Najkutlentawyug, the butler for the Oni running this place.”
“He has designs?” I asked.
“Designs of civil war in this universe. Particularly this sector.” I couldn’t resist a smirk.
“A Civil War among the damned,” I chuckled. “Sonavok, Ziddet, work your manipulation magic. I want Hiro and his family, Dr. Borg and her councilors, Intrag, and the Terrorcons ready to join us. The rest can squabble to their hearts’ content.”
“As you wish.”
Categories
Thanks From the Monarchs
Lardeth: We cannot express our gratitude enough for you taking the time out of your schedules to read our adventures.
Falnii: You are what made us want to tell our stories.
Malnar: Your interest in us bringing the Eternal Age of Unity to a lighter beginning is what made this possible.
Gorfanth: You wanted us to win the Final War, so we did.
Foresna: Your desire to end stagnation is what kept us fighting.
Arsha: So, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you. Thank you for reading the stories of the Three Realms. We are truly grateful.
Roughly 82,000 years had passed since the day of Arsha’s wedding and subsequent uniting the main Three Realms. As prophesized, many more Realms appeared. In one such Realm, devoted solely to Mechanicas, an old Dauntless-class skyship rested at a port. Inside the ship, its Mechanica, an old woman, wandered the corridors, recalling when she was packed with crewmembers. Now, the occasional engineers make sure she’s kept in order. She entered the cargo bay and looked at how empty it was. She sighed, reminiscing about when a gel-pox pandemic struck, and she was filled with medical supplies and doctors. As she remembered the old days, both good and bad, a knocking snapped her out of her thoughts. A scowl crossed her face. The knocking resumed and she guessed it came from the landing ramp. “No thank you!” she barked as loudly as her throat would let her. “We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers, or newer classes of ships!”
“And what about old commanders?” asked an old woman’s voice in reply. The old Mechanica recognized that voice, even when the years altered it. She headed to the ramp and lowered it. When it rested on the ground, she went down and saw an old, dark-skinned Human/Kitsune blender in pink.
“…Arsha?” asked the Mechanica. The elderly former Queen of the Realms chuckled happily.
“Endea, my old friend!” she replied.
“Captain Royana, it’s great to see you!” The elderly Endea, the living extension of the Endeavor went as fast as she could to hug her former Captain.
“It’s great to see you too, Endea! 97,000 years old and you’re still as fit as ever!” The two broke off the embrace as Arsha got a good look at Endea. “You Mechanicas get all the luck in that department.” Endea chuckled, then headed back up the ramp. She turned around again and saw that Arsha was still on the ground.
“Well, come on in, you old bat!” laughed the elderly Mechanica. “It’s freezing out here!” Arsha followed Endea up the ramp. “Welcome back to the Endeavor! Tea? Or maybe something stronger? I’ve got some of the old stores left! 1296 EAU, very good year! Almost a quarter of my age!” She hurried off to the room that was once Barmek’s Bar and Grill. “It was left behind when the Barmeks left the ship! What say we crack one open, eh?”
“Just tea, thank you,” replied Arsha. She unknowingly tapped a loose bit with her head. She steadied it, then felt assured it wouldn’t move again. Her head then ran into a chin-up bar straddling a door. After that incident, she ducked down and heard Endea talking in the old restaurant.
“…I mean, you were supposed to come last week! Not that it matters, you Royanas are always coming and going as you please. You caught me a bit unprepared, I’m afraid.” As Endea continued talking, Arsha looked around and recalled when everyone had a victory party after winning the Final War. “Let’s see, we got some cold chicken and there’s some cheese PHEW! Never mind! That’s gone bad! Er, we’ve got some bread, jam, apple tart, maybe some scones, unless they’re…no, they’re all right!” Arsha imagined a wall hanging of a Mid-realm beach hanging above a booth. “I could make you some eggs, if you…Arsha?” Arsha snapped out of her thoughts to realize Endea was looking at her.
“Just tea, thank you,” assured Arsha.
“Of course.” Endea put the kettle on and prepared some food for herself. “You don’t mind if I-?”
“No, of course not!” Just then, the old comms crackled to life.
“Endea! I know you’re in there!” snapped a man’s voice.
“I’m not at home!” hissed Endea. “It’s my cousin in the Black Star Fleet! He’s trying to get me stripped out of all my tech! He’s never forgiven me for living so long! I’ve got to get away from all these confounded relatives hanging on my call button all day and never giving me a moment’s peace! I already said that I will be used as a Mer-realm home once my Mechanica body’s buried there! I want to see one last Realm before I snuff it, Arsha! Just one last Realm! And Mer-realm’s the most peaceful Realm for me to finish my book!” The kettle then whistled. “Tea!” recalled Endea as she dashed to the stove. She then took out two teacups and put a teabag in each one. After that, she poured the water and handed a cup to Arsha.
“So, you mean to go through with your plan, then?” asked Arsha as she let her tea steep.
“Yep, it’s all taken care of.”
“Your great-great-grandson, Lunath, suspects something.”
“He SUSPECTED something. He’s a Realmfleet ship, not some clapped-out Trinny ship.”
“Then you told him?”
“Yep. He got the immediate family to help with the arrangements.”
“He loves you very much, you know.” Endea went quiet.
“…I know. …He’d probably come with me if I asked him. But, in the end, his heart belongs to Machine-realm.” She then looked out the window.
“…Endea?”
“I’m getting old, Arsha. Thin, weak, like I never had rust taken care of. I know I don’t look it, but I feel it in my heart. ‘Well-preserved’, indeed! I need a vacation. A very long vacation that I don’t expect I’ll return from. …In fact, I don’t mean to return.”
“You always were happier when you were exploring,” chuckled Arsha as she sipped her tea. “Well, if you need help, I’m available.”
“…Do you think you can take the Captain’s Chair during my last voyage?” asked Endea. Arsha smiled happily.
“…I think these old bones are quite ready for one more command.” Arsha finished her tea and stood up. “I’ll tell my spouses about it and we’ll make the arrangements. You get some rest for the coming voyage.”
“Aye aye, Captain!” chuckled Endea as she cleared up. Arsha left the old restaurant and looked through the corridors. She smiled as she thought back to her reign and her children’s reign.
“It was a hard-fought peace,” she muttered to herself, “but it was worth it!”
The Mid-realm wedding ceremony was held in Largandra, at the same park where Arsha had her Tour’s End Ceremony. It was a Dwarfish wedding ceremony, with six pickaxes surrounding a massive rock. A Dwarf priest approached the rock and stood upon it. “Marriage…is like a diamond,” he began. “It takes years for it to become shiny and requires skilled hands to sculpt it to the shape the newlyweds want. Through their work, these ladies and gentlemen will accomplish many things.” Arsha and her lovers then stepped forward. “Take your axes and strike hard to free your new wealth!” The priest then jumped off the rock as the brides and grooms took up an ax and swung at the rock. It cracked, but it didn’t fall apart. They struck again. More cracks appeared, but nothing happened yet. They swung one last time and the rock collapsed, revealing precious stones of all types. Arsha and her lovers each picked a stone and held it aloft.
“Lardeth Felompha, Falnii Loftanaf, Foresna Falshenda, Malnar Emboramii, Gorfanth Steelhorn,” called Arsha, “I promise to add my wealth to yours and make our love the most beautiful gem the Realms have seen!”
“Lardeth Felompha, Falnii Loftanaf, Arsha Royana, Malnar Emboramii, Gorfanth Steelhorn,” replied Foresna, “I promise to add my wealth to yours and make our love the most beautiful gem the Realms have seen!”
“Falnii Loftanaf, Arsha Royana, Foresna Falshenda, Malnar Emboramii, Gorfanth Steelhorn,” cheered Lardeth, “I promise to add my wealth to yours and make our love the most beautiful gem the Realms have seen!”
“Lardeth Felompha, Arsha Royana, Foresna Falshenda, Malnar Emboramii, Gorfanth Steelhorn,” said Falnii, “I promise to add my wealth to yours and make our love the most beautiful gem the Realms have seen!”
“Lardeth Felompha, Falnii Loftanaf, Arsha Royana, Foresna Falshenda, Gorfanth Steelhorn,” announced Malnar, “I promise to add my wealth to yours and make our love the most beautiful gem the Realms have seen!”
“Lardeth Felompha, Falnii Loftanaf, Arsha Royana, Foresna Falshenda, Malnar Emboramii,” finished Gorfanth, “I promise to add my wealth to yours and make our love the most beautiful gem the Realms have seen!”
“With the vows having been proclaimed,” called the priest, “I now pronounce you married! Kiss now and begin the first step to making your love the most beauteous gem in all the Realms!” Arsha and her lovers then planted a passionate kiss on each other. They were all finally fully married.
The reception was held at the Royanas’ castle, specifically the gardens. It was a standard outdoor ball, and everyone was enjoying themselves. Once more, Arsha and her lovers were the center of attention. Arsha smiled, enjoying the dancing. It always put her at ease whenever dancing was involved. Once the dancing was done, Arsha and her spouses went with the photos. This time, it was Arsha’s Kitsune great-grandparents that surprised her spouses. Her mother’s paternal grandfather was the great naturalist, Sir Davena Atenbrano. “You never told us you’re his great-granddaughter!” yelped Falnii.
“I guess you guys never asked,” chuckled Arsha. Sir Atenbrano was studying some of the bugs in the garden. “Something catch your eye, Great-grandpa?” asked Arsha.
“My dear Arsha,” said Davena, “it seems the ants here have made quite the home in these hedges, complete with even the necessary natural elements to keep them in check. Look at this particular one. See how it’s moving erratically?” Arsha and her spouses peered closely at the ant and noticed that it was constantly rubbing its legs on its head and trying to bite its own abdomen. Another ant then grabbed the erratic one in its mandibles and took it to another part of the hedge. “Ah, there we go. The colony’s on a medical alert,” said Davena.
“What’s wrong with the old ant?” asked Malnar.
“That, Your Majesty,” answered Davena, “is the result of a parasite. Spores from a parasitic fungus that we usually call the Thrall’s Mushroom has invaded its body and took over its mind. Look at it now.” The ant was climbing up the hedge’s branches. “Its infected brain is directing the ant upwards. Then, once it’s high enough, it will grip the stem with its mandibles. That other worker took the infected ant away from the colony because, within two hours, the fruiting body will erupt from the infected ant’s head and spread its spores within a week.”
“So the worker ant was keeping the Thrall’s Mushroom spores away from the colony,” guessed Foresna.
“Precisely,” confirmed Davena. “If any ant within the vicinity gets caught up in the spores, it will be at serious risk of death. The Thrall’s mushroom is so virulent, it can wipe out an entire colony of ants. And it’s not just ants that fall victim to this fungus. Indeed, other bugs have their own species of Thrall’s Mushroom. Thankfully, it doesn’t affect the Fae directly, but they DO have to check their domesticated bugs constantly, otherwise trade will cease.”
“So, how can the Fae wipe it out?” asked Gorfanth.
“The simple fact is that they can’t,” replied Davena. “The fungus DOES have a positive effect on the natural world, preventing one species of arthropod from gaining the upper hand on all the others.”
“If I may have everyone’s attention!” called Elgrad. He and his fellow Royals as well as Falnii, Foresna, and Gorfanth’s parents were standing on a stage. “As we all know,” continued Elgrad, “my daughter and her lovers have finally tied the knot! As such, it is time for their royal portraits to be revealed!” Six covered portraits were then wheeled in. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the portraits Lardeth and the Shores of his Realm, Falnii and her Family’s Greatest Treasures, Arsha and the Tranquility of her Realm, Foresna and his Family’s Pastures, Malnar and the Backbone of her Realm, and Gorfanth and his Family’s Craft!” The portraits were unveiled. Lardeth’s portrait was one of him on a sandy beach with clear water behind him, Falnii’s was one of her in a library, Arsha’s was one where she was standing in a sunny, grassy field, Foresna had a portrait of him draping his arm over a fence, Malnar’s portrait was of her standing on a balcony overlooking the Belsnath Citadel, and Gorfanth’s portrait was of him at a forge. “My dearest friends,” finished Elgrad, “this is the greatest moment in all of history! Through this marriage, all three Realms have united as our children have planned! May their marriage be blessed!” Everyone cheered as Arsha and her lovers kissed one another.