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Post by Madaraki on Jan 3, 2015 19:40:39 GMT -6
- Nightside, Masquer, Kagekiri, Ghast
The Pursuers.
- Trierek Truman, Aryana Truman, Angela Truman, Loki Morrison
A Family.
- Gyros, Bludgeon, Gyrosco, Gyros again.
Hero, Villain, Jester, Messenger.
- Walter Jacobi
Metahuman.
There is a story behind how Gyros came to venture forth from 21st century Earth into the far future of Apollo and find himself in Olympus in the midst of a sort of 'silent war' against the Inheritors. There is a story behind the trio of people who now work for him at The Pantheon.
There is also a story behind where one of their number is, but that's coming later.
YEARS AGO
There was someone who was to be paid a beating.
And Bludgeon was quite good at that sort of thing.
He had to admit, the name alone was not exactly the most subtle indicator of his proficiency.
Bludgeon was unbelievably good at what he did. He was skilled enough at beating things that in the few short weeks he had been operating under his current alias, he had demonstrated the ability to almost effortlessly beat a person until they bled to death internally. He could accomplish the feat without breaking the skin, and that was what set him apart from any other physical combatant in the academy.
It was also that skill and reputation that left his opponent looking more than a little nervous as he faced him. Bludgeon was slightly taller than average and wore body armor that only added to his height and bulk. The armor itself was entirely black, save the helmet, which possessed a red visor with a white skull painted over it. Not subtle, but it served its purpose.
His opponent wore a loose and billowing green robe, as well as a pair of beat-up metal gauntlets and a matching helmet covered in vents, eyeholes, and numerous latches. It was currently whistling like a tea kettle. He held both hands out, metal-covered fingers locked together as if he were about to snap his fingers.
Bludgeon reached down. Popping the latches on both scabbards, he grasped at the weapons inside them as their containers clunked to the ground. He was left hold two bludgeoning weapons. They were shaped somewhat like bats, but instead of being smooth and curved, they were edged; looking like four-pointed stars when viewed from above, with a single piercing spike on each end.
"Gyros..." the teakettle-helmeted man said. "C'mon. It doesn't-"
"-have to be like this?" Bludgeon said, cocking his head to one side. "Please. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that tripe uttered, I could have bought this place three times over."
"Gyros, please," he said, more firmly. "If you don't stand down now, Doraga's going to reach this place, and you know you can't beat him."
For a moment, the library was silent. It was a strangely designed room; built in what was probably the academy's old theater area; rows of seats replaced by rows of shelves that in a circular pattern around an open area where several tables, computer stations, and an antique librarian's desk sat. Many of the tables and computers had been smashed, and even the old desk was broken in two. Bludgeon had been rather busy before his former teammate had shown up, expressing shock and dismay at the sight of so many students' bodies flopped over broken shelves and cracked desks.
"Yes, Doraga. Threaten me with the dragon-man. Warn me of his coming!" Bludgeon cried, throwing his arms out and tossing both bats high. He caught them easily and swept them out to face his opponent again. "Win through words and predictions, never action. You're afraid to fight me, kettle-head. You're afraid to fight at a-"
Nautilus lunged forward before Bludgeon could react and one of his gauntleted fists snapped out with the speed of a shotgun blast.
Bludgeon's chest armor dented inward from the blur and he flew head over heels across the room.
"Yes, I am afraid," Nautilus said, shakily. "I'm afraid of the fact that even my weakest punch can take a man's head off. I'm afraid of my ability to blow up a building with two fingers. I'm afraid that I'm going to end up killing you when I came here to save you."
Bludgeon spiraled into the air, the blow seeming to have hardly slowed him, and he swung both bats one after the other at Nautilus' head. He blocked the first one with an armored forearm -the metal caved in slightly- and ducked beneath the other one, lashing out with his other hand at his enemy's stomach. Bludgeon in turn twisted, and landed one-footed; spinning his other leg out in an elaborate maneuver quite unlike most of the techniques he'd used in recent weeks.
"You can't do it," Nautilus said, breathlessly. "You can't even fight me without using Gyros's moves."
Ducking another swing, he punched at the ground again, shattering the floor under Bludgeon's feet and causing him to topple awkwardly. Not losing a minute, the villain jabbed both bats at the ground and tucked into a roll; kicking out at Nautilus and catching him under the chin.
The titan flew back, rolling in midair and landing on two feet, sliding back until he put a hand out to catch himself. That hand was suddenly crushed as Bludgeon leaped after him and brought the pointed end of one bat squarely down on it.
Nautilus cried out as his attacker pressed down on the bat and used it to vault into a double kick aimed at his head.
He caught the blow across his other arm and snapped his fingers.
There was a blast that shook not only the library, but the academy itself; windows blew out across the upper levels, eardrums ruptured violently, and for all of five seconds, there was a dead silence about the entire place.
Up in the ruined chamber with its scorched walls, cracked floor, breached ceiling, and still-flaming books, the librarian moved. She had been entering at a run, a pack of velociraptors from a Michael Chrichton book right behind her, when the blast hit, and everything had gone black with the noise and the pain.
Coughing, Stephenie Tolkien attempted push herself up and gasped at the sharp pain that flared from her shoulders. Reaching back, she pushed several of the rocks and a few books away from her back. Her body tingled strangely below her waist.
Wincing, she managed to drag herself to her elbows and look back. The rubble pinned her body above the knees and her lower back was bloodied. “Damn...guess I’m not..leaving the library after this.”
Twisting her body, she slumped onto her back and pulled the black satchel to her chest, popping each clasp. She had nearly reached inside when a figure appeared over the top of the rubble.
“Stop!” He called. He was battered, bloodied, and his uniform was torn in any area where it wasn't outright crushed and burned. His blond hair was matted and bloody from a cut above one eye, and he looked as though he'd just woken up. "Please..." he whispered. "I...I didn't...I don't...where's...where's Nautilus?"
Bookwurm let out a low, shaky laugh as she tugged the volume out of the satchel completely.
“I only wanted to keep reading,” she whispered, more to herself than the young hero. “Any book from any era, no matter how forbidden it might be and in some ways, I especially wanted to read the forbidden books.”
She looked up at Gyros from her position on the floor and smiled.
“I guess not everything turns out the way we expect, huh?”
“It..it doesn’t have to be this way.” he said, suddenly realizing that despite weeks of infiltration and work, he still hadn’t figured out her name. “Bookw-”
“Stephenie.” she sighed. “Let’s be honest here, Wally. Bookwurm? Bludgeon? Gyros? Nautilus? Codenames don’t get taken seriously unless it’s in fiction.”
“Ste-”
She slammed the ancient tome behind her head, holding it open to a bookmarked page. The sound of the ancient leather striking the metal floor echoed briefly and everything seemed to fall eerily silent as a flare of color Gyros had never seen before briefly radiated from the pages.
Bookwurm coughed blood, her eyes suddenly turning a strange shade that matched the colors surrounding the book. Looking up at Walter, she grinned.
“Iä! Yog-Sothoth...bitches...”
Iridescent globes began to coalesce about the chamber.
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Post by Madaraki on Jan 4, 2015 22:10:29 GMT -6
In his long years, Eryth had dealt with a lot. He'd lost family, friends, allies, and enemies alike. He was still stronger than ever, his power never to reach a greater peak, and yet it was omemnts like the one he now had to deal with that left the silver-furred wolfdemon feeling every day of his 95 years of age. Stepping over the rubble and surveying the devastation, he spotted what he was looking for.
A group of ragged teenagers; bloodied and battered but otherwise alive, making their way out from the rubble through a tunnel formed entirely of green energy. He nodded to the ringbearer holding the structure up, and when the last of the teenagers had emerged, the tunnel vanished and the rubble collapsed.
The tallest of them, a black-scaled hybrid of dragon and man stepped forward. His crimson wings were folded about his shoulders like a cloak, and one of them was torn in several areas. He gave no indication he felt any pain. Behind him were two young women; one of whom was clad entirely in black and purple with a featureless visored black helmet over her head. The other was dressed as though she were about to visit a nightclub. Nautilus was among them too, as was a little girl who looked like she'd been hacked to pieces and badly stitched together. Several of her threads were undone, one eye was missing, and the flesh of her jawbone was exposed, giving her a macabre half-grin.
Eryth began speaking before any of them could.
"The Academy's in ruins...there's a bodycount rivaling a horror movie franchise, and Gyros is...missing," he said, his voice alarmingly calm.
"THAT WAS SOMETHING ELSE," Nautilus shouted. The others looked at him, leaning away slightly. Eryth noticed with some alarm that the earholes in the young man's helmet were bleeding.
Harvester looked up at Nautilus. "I cyan styick some leeeches in yeer ears isf it'll helpf," she clacked.
"I got your preliminary report back at the watchtower, but...more than a little of it confused me."
"Something emerged," Doraga said. "Bookwurm summoned something out of one of her books and it destroyed everything. We think it's responsible for Gyros missing as well."
"Describe it."
There was a hideous retching noise; Harvester had vomitted up a sticky black mess of tar and barbed wire that was already affixing itself to her face; giving her lower jaw a semblance of flesh.
"In the olden days it might have defied description," she said, her voice oozing out. "It was vast, and horrific. An eldritch abomination of eyes, globes, and tentacles that spanned a mile-wide expanse in the sky upon-"
"Yog-Sothoth," Eryth said.
Every Titan at once had some expression and exclamation of confusion.
"ISN'T HE JUST A FICTITIOUS THING?" Nautilus asked.
"He's real," Eryth said. "What puzzles me is how Bookwurm managed to conjure something real from something fictitious like that. She's not supposed to have that power."
"She doesn't, He wasn't, and now He is," Harvester said, her eyes shining with an unknown band of colour. "Even my source feels itself shaken by his presence."
"You never told us you went in for that sort of stuff," Psych said in a small voice.
"It's been an area of my work for decades..." Eryth said slowly. "What do you mean I...never told you?"
"NOT UNTIL NOW," Nautilus said.
"Oh dear gods," the wolfdemon growled.
"You mean something she unleashed is changing time?" Doraga asked.
"It's already changed time!" Eryth suddenly snapped, pacing. "I've studied weird fiction much of my life, knowing all the while that it had its own eerie basis in reality, and now you're telling me that, I'd never even gone in for such things?"
"That's pretty much it...as far as we know," Nautilus said.
"It's altered more than just whether or not Cthulhu was a work of fiction or not," Eryth said. "Do any of you remember Michael Arynias? Naaldlooshii Raith? The Power Grab Incidents?"
Nautilus looked to Crash Dummy who looked to Doraga.
Harvester shrugged and went back to petting the small ladybug that had crawled out of one of the stitches on her hands. A smile was still fixed on her odd face.
"I remember Michael Arynias being known as Shard," Doraga began.
"My half-sister's disconnected sibling and the CEO of a metahuman research organization?" Eryth asked, looking as though he already knew the answer.
Everyone looked confused again.
"I remember hearing about him," Doraga said. "He was kind of a dork who liked playing wizard."
"Nawldlewshey's a funny name," Harvester squeaked.
"Why haven't ween been affected?" Psych asked. "I mean, we still remember that Lovecraftian stuff is in books, Shard was a wizard, and..." she searched. "Red X had a son who went by Hyper X?"
"Hyper X is a vigilante, unassociated with the Jump City outlaw," Eryth said. "And you're probably not affected by it-"
Harvester burped and let a greenish protoplasmic tentacle writhe its way out from the stitched area of a battered and broken arm, where it pulled the limb into its proper position.
"affected that much," he finished.
"If what you're saying is true, Bookwurm set Yog-Sothoth loose, and as he is the gate and knows the gate, he likely conjured the rest of the 'Elder Gods' into being from the dawn of time, and their presence has altered everything. The past you knew is changed, and a new timeline has asserted itself. There is no fixing it, but..." he sighed, "there is one thing we must do."
"What's that?" Psych asked, already knowing the answer.
"We must find Gyros," Eryth answered, looking out across the ruins once more.
CENTURIES AGO.
It defied description.
In every sense of the word.
He could not comprehend the horror that stretched across the lightning-riddled sky overhead. The barrier that was set over Gargoloth, the barrier said to be unbreakable, even by the Demonwood Council, was shattering. An immense array of blasphemous life and eldritch implications hovered overhead, storming through the Goblin King's blackest enchantments as though they weren't there. A strange howling and ululation could be heard above the thunder and wind, and the fabric of the world itself screamed in pain.
Standing atop a rocky outcropping that stuck outward from a high hill like the fang of some bygone predator, the ranging hunter known only as The Thunderwolf watched in soul-shaking horror and spirit-sundering awe as the entity overhead spat -there was no other word for it- something small, something that looked suspiciously like a human body...
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Post by Madaraki on Jan 11, 2015 23:27:34 GMT -6
The top level of the highest spire of the Titansgate Bridge was a madhouse.
Or at least, one woman's mind was a madhouse.
"This is your idea of a family vacation?!" Aryana said, voice rising with each word. "Jumping through a gateway powered by some mix of technology, magic, and whatever...field...spectrum thing you're tied to?!"
Erek stood, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd expected his wife to be enthusiastic or at least interested in the idea. There was a mission to accomplish, and while there were certainly some risks, the danger didn't seem all that great, particularly compared to a lot of their other missions. "Listen, this is a simple search-and-rescue. Gyros can't be th-"
"NOTHING IS SIMPLE ABOUT HOPPING THROUGH SPACE AND TIME," his wife shrieked with such vehemence that all four of Erek's eyes flew open and blinked rapidly.
"Dad," a small voice behind him said. It was punctuated with an odd hissing noise at every other syllable as it spoke. "She's just messing with you."
Erek looked around, spotting Angela sitting on the couch. She was wearing a green tank top, black pants, and an open dark blue sweatshirt. A stuffed backpack and duffel bag were at her side.
"What are you-?" he began. Confused, he turned back to his Aryana, only to find her face inches from his own and her mismatched eyes narrowed with a sadistic glee.
"I intercepted Eryth's message before you," she said, kissing him quickly. "I happen to think it sounds exciting! An exploration into parts and times unknown, a simple search and rescue, and..." she paused, walking her fingers up his chest and up towards his lips. "Just. The three. Of us."
Angela looked up from her phone. "I just texted Loki to see if he was interested in coming along and he said yes."
In his lifetime, Erek had encountered many supernatural beings; entities of immense power whose eyes always flared with a light that shook the soul when the entity's wrath was kindled.
He saw a glimmer of that divine wrath in his wife's eyes as their daughter spoke up.
"Did you pack everything?" Fueko asked, her narrowed eyes watching as her son loaded two large duffel bags onto a teleportation pad. Her tail was switching back and forth agitatedly, a sign that she was either nervous, or eager to tear something apart with her teeth.
Richard was somewhat surprised at the movement, considering there was nothing to really tear apart at the moment. He'd only ever seen the shark-woman nervous once before, and that was the time the Puppet King had possessed Kaluz and turned the dragon-man against them. She'd broken her scythe on his face before realizing nobody on the team could really fight her teammate one-on-one. It had taken Pit Viper, Gavial, and Rigor to restrain him, leaving Fueko with Combu to track down and stop the Puppet King.
Fueko had of course, found herself in much better spirits a few hours later, after Kaluz was freed and the team was having a cookout over a wood fire fueled by a very particular heap of kindling.
"Throwing knives?" She asked, as Loki continued checking his luggage.
"Got them," he sighed.
"Shanking knives?"
"They're packed."
"Scythe?"
"Mom," he said, pausing and looking up at her. The greenish skin on his face faded just enough to reveal the myriad rows of pointed teeth that he'd inherited from her. "you can check my bedroom if you want. I've thrown enough weapons in here to arm the Ninja Turtles."
Fueko let out a long breath and ruffled her son's hair, causing his fin-like ears to flop slightly. She allowed herself a small smile and suddenly whirled, grabbing Rigor's face in her webbed fingers.
"IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO OUR SON I WILL STUFF A GRENADE IN YOUR MOUTH, RIP YOUR HEAD OFF, AND THROW IT FROM HERE TO THE MOON. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" She bellowed.
Three hours later, they were all gathered in one of the lower rooms of the Titansgate Bridge. It was a circular chamber lined with computer banks, scrying mirrors, and various alien artifacts. It had once been a war room, but after some amount of time, it had become a repository for stuff-nobody-knew-what-to-do-with. Mystical relics had found their way into the round room, along with various knick-knacks left behind by visitors from other worlds and dimensions.
It was where the Oan Warp Circuit was located. It was a stone circle of roughly twenty feet in diameter, studded throughout with soft bars that were either half melted metal, or the ripped-out sinew of some long-dead alien. Lights of seven colors flickered about its edges, and it was hooked up in turn to one of the reactivated computer banks.
Magnus Shirhara -known as Kaluz to anyone not considered friend or family- sat in a chair that was plainly too small for his bulky seven foot frame. His tail swept the dusty floor as he worked, entering coordinates and data that Eryth had provided from the Academy ruins the previous day. Behind him a gleaming hovercraft hummed with the quiet noise of its jets. He reached for a microphone mounted on the keyboard.
"Ready when you are," he growled in a voice that carried a curious trace of a french accent.
Inside the hovercraft, Erek looked to his wife and found her staring with a strange eagerness at the portal, which was now swirling and churning with a rainbow-hued wash of energy.
"Let's-" she began almost dramatically.
"Yeahwhatever," Loki said, reaching forward from his set behind them and shoving the accelerator lever forward.
Their ship rocketed wildly into the cascading lights and vanished. Kaluz grinned at the angry noises over the speakers.
Yet even as the portal's energies flashed one final time and faded to leave the empty framework of Oan technology, the alarms in the headquarters began blaring and the emergency lights began to bathe the room in a crimson glow. The normal lighting cut out immediately.
"The fuck is goin' on now?" Fueko asked angrily, looking around.
"Don't tell me the portal's-" Rigor began.
"It's not the portal," Magnus growled. He was still seated at one of the computer consoles, and as soon as the first alarm blared, his claws began to dance over the controls. "It's something else."
He pushed a button and every screen along the front wall flickered to form a map of the world. Red lines with black and yellow flashing symbols traced their way from origin to destination points. The glowing pattern left everyone staring in horrified awe.
"J-Je ne sais pas..." Magnus breathed, momentarily reverting to his native tongue. "Every nuclear missile in the world has just been fired."
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Post by Madaraki on Jan 24, 2015 22:17:40 GMT -6
Long Ago...
He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, only that when he awoke, the sky was dark and cloudy. There was no sign of any star or eldritch abomination overhead.
Groaning, Gyros pushed himself into a sitting position. He clanked slightly as he sat up and looked down.
He was dressed again in his old costume; black padded bodysuit, green armor, gauntlets, boots, everything. His helmet lay close by, the faceplate opened and its lenses dark.
"I'll allow you a moment to recover your wits," a muffled voice spoke from somewhere behind him.
Gyros whirled to his feet and spun, grateful not only that he still retained his agility and balance, but that his apparent "nap" had done enough to clear his head and not leave him too dizzy. He saw the shrouded figure sitting on a nearby tree stump at the very edge of a forest that he hadn't even realized was so close by. Around him, the wind ruffled the grass, branches, and ragged robes of his mysterious companion alike.
"Moment allowed," the figure said again, raising its head. There was a flash of red and a blur, and Gyros was suddenly seized by the collar of his armor and slammed against a tree that had been a good fifty feet away a second ago. Pinned and still somewhat weakened, all he could do was stare at the figure. He stood somewhat over six feet tall and was clad almost entirely in black. His tunic was padded with leather and clinked with ringmail. The gauntlet hold him was hinged and jointed across its entire surface, and the fingers of it ended in claws that had been blacked in ashes. The cloak he wore was a heavy thing; a motley mix of leather, fur, and feathers. All of it was black. Strangest of all was the helmet; a close-fitted thing of darkened wood carved in the shape of a wolf's head.
Lightning crackled about the eyeholes.
At that moment, all sense left Gyros and he grinned weakly.
"Never knew you were into LARPing, Eryth...."
There was a sharp intake of breath and the arm pressing him to the tree pressed in. Gyros' armor began to creak against the bark.
"How do you know who I am?" he asked, reaching up with his other hand and sweeping the mask off.
The superhero's mouth fell open. Standing in front of him was an elf; one with red eyes, white hair, and a grayish-black complexion only slightly lighter than the clothes he wore.
"...Different Eryth," He said. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but..."
The pressure on his armor, the treatment, the otherwise lousy experience...
Gyros reached up and seized a low-hanging branch. It took little effort fling his legs about "Eryth's" waist and tuck himself upward, slamming the ragged figure into the branch and dropping him. As he swung down, he swung one hand at the base of the branch and snapped it off.
Landing easily on the ground, Bludgeon brought the branch swinging down at Eryth's head viciously. Growling as his intended target rolled aside and the branch thudded into the ground, he kicked out to the side and caught the dark elf in the side.
Grunting, the ranger managed to grab the foot as it struck him and rolled again with the hit. "Questions abound," he said. "Who are you?" He came to his feet and caught another swing from the branch, this time seizing it with the claws of his gauntlets and shattering a good third of it. "Why are you suddenly attacking me?" He ducked a sudden spin-kick.
Bludgeon went in for a straight thrust at his enemy's jaw. Eryth stepped back quickly and reached under his cloak. Just as the branch might have connected, he brought up a short sword whose length blazed with red lightning as it struck and shivered the branch. Swinging the crackling blade, he brought Bludgeon up short by leveling the blade directly at his right eye.
"Enough, boy."
The villain snarled and stepped back. Even as Eryth thundered forward with the blade, he charged and ducked under the blade.
Calmly and with practiced efficiency, the Thunderwolf struck Gyros on the back of the head with the hilt and knocked him unconscious.
"Perhaps we'll try again when you're less...volatile," he muttered.
Whenever
"You really think we're going to find Gyros here?" Angela asked, without looking away from her phone, which was steadily annoying her more and more with its refusal to work. Biting her lip and puffing her cheeks, she glared at the device, as though adolescent frustration would restore its proper functions. The mist vents in her cheeks puffed slightly at the expression.
Erek sighed, looking down over the edge of the cliff. "That thing that pulled him away breached several dimensions along its path. We have no way of knowing where it dropped him."
"So we could be here forever?" She said.
"We're chasing a teenage boy with superpowers and a severe personality disorder. He'll make himself known wherever he ends up," her mother said, stepping down from their ship's landing ramp. Giving her husband a quick peck as she reached them, she looked out over the cliff. There was already a sparkle of excitement in her eyes at the sight.
"That's gotta be a hell of a drop."
Below the cliff's edge, there was no solid ground.
They had found themselves on some sort of world that had long ago shattered and now drifted in orbit about a small star. Whatever force of gravity conspired to keep the myriad shards in perfect non-impacting orbit with one another also allowed something of an atmosphere around them. Civilization had managed to thrive on the strange world, and a series of catwalks, tunnels, and space-bridges spanned the array of planet chunks; creating a sort of wiry-looking sphere that when seen from the outside, was lit through immense pits and chasms by the star within.
The Pursuers -Loki had painted the name on the side of the ship shortly after they'd landed with a can of spray paint he'd brought along- had landed on one of the interior fragments after their ship re-formed in the space just beyond the planet.
"So how're we gonna find Gyros in this mess if he's even here?" Angela asked.
Aryana was already leaping in the low gravity and making her way to another fragment.
"We explore," her father shrugged with a fain smile on his face. "Try to enjoy it like your mother."
"Can't enjoy a place that doesn't even have internet," she grumbled.
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Post by Madaraki on Mar 17, 2015 23:22:04 GMT -6
"Let's try that again," were the first words Gyros heard when he reawakened.
Blinking, he looked around. They were clearly no longer in the woods; the walls around them were hard stone, but he couldn't tell whether they were above ground, below ground, or even whether they were in a proper building. Everything was smooth and the iron door let no light shine around its edges.
"I assume the surroundings make things obvious. You are a curiosity, but I have no problem beating you into submission if you attempt to attack me again, and I imagine that armor of yours can only protect you from so much before it breaks." As if to emphasize the point, he began tossing the green helmet from hand to hand. "And of course, that's not saying anything about how much your head can handle."
"Well I'd say my head can't handle a lot of things right now," Gyros said, managing a weak laugh. "I mean, I can't really explain it; I just snap sometimes."
"Then control it," the dark elf said, jabbing a finger at him. "You say that sometimes your mind snaps, that this "other side" of you comes through-"
"Only if I'm wearing the right costume-" he began.
"That might have been how whatever's wrong with your mind asserted itself at first," Eryth said. "But we shall speak more of that later. What you were must be put aside for the time being. What you are...." he paused, turning the helmet over in his hands and studying its lenses. Lightning crackled from his fingertips and the latches on it sprang open. He looked at the bits of miniaturized equipment inside, unable to make much sense of them. "What you are must be something else. You claim to be from the future, and if that is indeed true, then you can not be permitted to alter the craft of this time."
Rising, he pushed open the door and led Gyros outside, but not before tossing him a ragged cloak. "The last thing we need is for people to stare at whatever that is you're wearing and wonder."
As they walked, Gyros couldn't help but look around. He had begun to assume they were in a cave, but in fact they seemed to be in a squat stone keep with ancient tapestries and broken windows here and there. Beyond the windows he could see what looked like a small village surrounded by a thick wooden stockade of tree trunks, ropes, chains, and tar.
"Rowdbarr," the dark elf said, noticing his curiosity. "It's a small village on the edge of the kingdom, and well hidden. We have mages here who guard it day and night from our enemies."
They eventually reached the top of the stairway where another door was pushed open. The room was tidy, if odd looking; multiple wooden wardrobes lining the walls, and curtains hanging from hooks mounted all over the ceiling in a way that created a maze of silk and linen.
A young girl was seated in the center of the room, stitching several pieces of fabric. She was another dark elf like Eryth, who looked up sharply at his entering and then spotted the former hero.
"So you let him out?" She asked, looking Gyros up and down. "He doesn't look all that dangerous."
Gyros stared for a moment before he realized what had struck him as odd about her, beyond her appearance.
The needle and fabric were floating above her lap, held aloft by swirling plumes of what looked suspiciously like sand. The sand itself had formed a set of extra hands that seemed to be doing the work for the seamstress.
"He's calmed down for now, Erya," the taller elf said as though the Titan weren't there. "He needs work, but before that, he needs to look like he belongs here."
Ten minutes later and Gyros was staring himself in the mirror uncertainly.
"I...I thought fitting in would mean looking like someone from The Lord of the Rings..." he moaned.
"Who is this lord of rings?" the elf asked pointedly. "A monarch from your 'future'?"
"Never mind," he said. He was dressed in an outfit that could best be described as ludicrous; black and green striped leggings, pointy-toed boots -one green and one black- and a skirted tunic with a black and green diamond pattern. The shoulders of the thing were elaborately poofed with slits in them revealing gold cloth beneath. Topping off the outfit was a five-pointed hat, colored just like the rest of the outfit, with golden bells on each of its ends. A black and gold cloak topped the ensemble off. "I look like Danny Kaye..."
"I do not know who this 'Danny Kaye' is," Eryth said, exasperated. "Please cease to reference names from your timeline. My future may be altered enough by your presence and I have no desire to become the progenitor of madmen and villains."
Gyros managed to hold back from responding to that one. "So it's...okay, I look like a jester-"
"And you're going to need to act like one," Eryth finished bluntly. "Rhyming, singing, a speech pattern that will serve a twofold purpose. Your mind is a mess right now, your good half unable to balance out with your evil half. Confining your speech to a more limiting style will serve to focus your mind and in time allow you to conquer whatever instability is in your head."
"I'm not entirely sure that's how it works," Gyros said.
"The knowledge of your vaunted future will be a long time coming," he snapped. "For the time being, you will accept my remedies. Focus your mind and balance it daily."
"Only until I make it back home," was the retort. Eryth's eyes flashed at that.
"Boy, if I could send you back to wherever you came I would have done it before you regained consciousness and rid myself of an anomaly. Unfortunately for me, that option did not present itself. The best I can do is ensure that your affect on this world is either beneficial at best, or minimal at worst. The best you can do is quickly accept that this may be where you grow up, grow old, and end your days."
The new jester slumped down into the nearest chair, staring at the floor.
"It's..." he said, mouth working. Evelyn, I'm sorry. "It may be for the best, really. The last thing any of my friends remember me doing is turning on them. I even...I even tried to kill one of them. M-maybe it's best if I just stay here and don't even try to go back."
"Maybe it is best if you stay here," Eryth shrugged. "Think of it as a fresh start..." he paused. "What is your name?" he suddenly asked. "I doubt that even people of the future are absurd enough to use names like "Gyros".
"Wally. Walter..." he said quietly.
"Well, as much as I hate to tell you to abandon yet another thing, Wally Walter," he said, shaking his head. "Your real name cannot be used here either. It must be put aside for the time being. Maybe you were meant to come back to this time, but for the sake of caution I would advise against affecting things too drastically.
"Use that hero name of yours," he suddenly said.
"'Gyros' is the sort of name that draws attention, and I would prefer to face far less...well, tension," he said, stumbling over the word slightly.
"Work on the speaking too," the Thunderwolf said, seemingly ignoring the complaint as he began sorting through the armor and bodysuit that had been the young man's uniform until minutes ago. "As to the name," he suddenly added. "Not 'Gyros' to be sure, but maybe some play on it. Something that sounds fancier."
Still feeling faintly ridiculous in the jester suit and traveling cloak he had been given, the former Titan thought for a moment.
"It may sound silly, that much I know, but perhaps I should use the name Gyrosco?"
Eryth's right eye began twitching.
"I suppose it's the best for now, but work on the rhyming. You're going to anger a lot of people if you don't polish your act."
Ten minutes later he was watching the mad jester set out along the forest path from Rowdbarr, satchel slung over his back and mandolin held over his shoulder. He had little idea where he was going, but with the Goblin King's barrier in place, he could not wander far. It was perhaps for the best anyway. The whole world might drive him even madder than he already was, and perhaps the young man's tendency to fall in with odd people would lead to a group forming that might indeed bring down the Goblin King.
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