It Won't Be Long - Season 6
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Roger Glipglorp: “Good evening my guys, gals, and nonbinary pals - it’s time for Roger Glipglorp! I’m Roger Glipglorp, your host, here with another shattering piece of news coming out of the Pact Worlds. Today marks three months after the horrifying attack on the Pact Council, and the destruction of the Culinarium. While reconstruction at the Idari is well under way, structural damage to the ship has extended the repairs necessary, and citizens' happiness is at an all time low. While Grandmaster Nawa Jin has yet to make a full recovery, sources state that the Kasatha has regained consciousness, and is spending time with family at home."
Roger Glipglorp: "Meanwhile, Alexander Marcus has continued his campaign across the Pact Worlds, in an effort to calm the public, and to ensure their safety. He still declines to comment on the fate of the reptoid inhabiting Valentina Terris, last seen at the Pact Summit disaster, or any updates on the whereabouts of the Dream Team. "
Roger Glipglorp: "Speaking of the Dream Team, the darkness bubble around Ezorod remains closed, and efforts to penetrate the barrier have been unsuccessful. While some mystics report an anomaly in Night, they are unable to reach the plane or its inhabitants. The Honorable Captain Hamat continues to stand-in as their Pact Worlds representative, pending the Queen Movahesh's criminal trial."
Roger Glipglorp: "This also marks the third month of hostilities between the Azlanti Star Empire and the Shadari Confederacy, although intelligence sources share that the Confederacy is losing, and likely won’t survive the next two weeks. The Pact Council is still deliberating on a response, blocked by Marcus’ allies, who are voting for a non-interference policy."
Roger Glipglorp: "Continuing our coverage in the Vast, the hunting vacation destination, Safarae, continues to repel all contact from Merrytime Expedition Corporation. Their starships are destroyed upon arrival in the atmosphere, and radio waves are immediately reflected..."
There is a warble in the transmission, and for a moment, we step outside the dream entirely, and go somewhere beyond… A vision full of breadcrumbs, leading our dreamers back together again, if they can only defeat the trials ahead of them.
We begin in the verdant jungles of Castrovel, in the vibrant boughs of the Ikal Expanse. But the jungle is no longer vibrant, and far less beautiful. We see a hole bored into the treeline, flame and ash consuming all that venture here, and a terrible, obsidian spire looming up out of the center. Flay and the Ikal Tribes have been besieging the spire for over a month now, after a long and gritty battle to reclaim their home from these monstrous creatures, once sealed beneath the earth. Flay looks down on the walls from a lookout post, a long scar crossing her right eye, and a rusty metal sword in her hand. The batteries on her equipment died out long ago, but the fight goes on. Warmth in the Clouds appears beside her, carrying a steaming cup of tea.
Clouds: “Do you think they’re ready?”
Flay: “They have to be.” The view cuts, taking us across the seas of Castrovel, to the city of Qabarat, the prominent city state of the planet. But we do not dwell in the streets, or savor the aromas of the markets. Instead, we sink down, into an underground facility below the city, where a familiar figure is strapped to an operating table. His hair and beard have gone wild, his eyes wide with fear. Several diodes are attached to his head, his body limp. Chamas grumbles something, and his sister, Annwen, steps from the shadows to listen in. Annwen: “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
Chamas: “Warden... Isra. L- Lockette. Tesin. Corn- Cornelius… Flay.”
Annwen: “I told you, brother. They aren’t coming to help. They don’t need you.”
Chamas: “Warden. Don’t leave me. I’ll be better.” Annwen grabs her brother’s hair, pulling his eyes up to meet hers. She snarls, giving the Lashunta a sharp slap. Annwen: “I don’t care about Mist! He’s dead! Tell me about the keys!”
Chamas: “D- Dead?”
Annwen: “Yes, you fool. He never returned. We confirmed it. He’s--” A mote of entropy appears over Chamas’ head. His eyes focus. Annwen leaps back, graceful as a cat, and calls for the guards. This wasn’t supposed to be possible. He was sedated-- Chamas: : “I’m coming, Mist.” There is a blast of energy, and the vision fades… We go now to Ezorod, stuck in a liminal state between the Material Plane and Night, bounded on two sides by an impossibility. We see the Daughters of Night chanting in a circle, led by Hecate, and overseen by their father. Melody sits over Feral, channeling her energy as well, who is in turn fueled by three Pyric Hags. There is a huff of air from a wingbeat, and Tesin arrives in the center of the circle. The Wings of Night stretch wide on her back, balancing her landing, and her solar mote floats about her head like a simple crown. Carrot: “We’re nearly ready, my love. When it is done, it will be up to you, and whomever can still stand.”
Tesin: “The Eshtayiv?”
Carrot: “Still bound. But Alistair waits for us.” Tesin nods, and lets the battle calm fall over her. The barrier cracks. Light filters through all of Ezorod. Tesin grabs her Solarion mote, and activates it... The Scythe of Memory appears in her hands. We move on now, to the Vast, to the violent system of Typhoon, and the central moon of the planetoid Orikolai. The Swarm hover about it like locusts, feeding on the outer rings, their ships docked in the Stewards’ harbor. We pass them, and into the halls of the research facility… To a massive hangar, where the Swarm have spread their locust ilk, which covers the walls, floor, ceiling, and the Iron Drake. An enormous, spherical Outsider hovers in front of it, connected to the mech with biological wires. Far away, in the deepest reaches of the moon, a squad of Stewards form up, led by Lockette. Atticus McCallow can be heard on their comms. Atticus: “You know the mission. Lockette, you have command if comms go down. Am I clear?”
Lockette: “Clear.”
Atticus: “Good. Operation Lock n’ Load is a go. Godspeed, Omega Delta.” Lockette nods at her crew, and puts a helmet over her head, which clicks neatly into her armor. Then she turns, nanites roiling all over her body, and phases onto a motorcycle, with a fully-automatic machine gun nested in between the handlebars. Omega Delta Squad mounts similar vehicles, and then they soar out of their hiding place, and into the nest of the Swarm. Shifting away, but staying in the Vast, we arrive at another verdant planet, the wild and wonderful Safarae. But all is not well in hunter’s paradise… A fierce blackness swirls about the planet, it’s fangs and teeth setting with phasic light, with sinister wings forcing it to crawl through the atmosphere. The Haze pauses. An aspect of the Devourer. On the planet’s surface, we see Isra and Cornelius, who watch the creature hover in the sky, and then fly downward, towards its nest in the mountains. A crew of tribal Androids rise out of the undergrowth to meet her, chatting animatedly in an unknown tongue, which Isra responds in. The Haze translates as they continue. Merrygold: “Forgive me, Shepherd. But is this not an ill fate? Should we turn back?”
Isra: “There is no turning back… Not now.” Isra looks up to the oily haze that covers the planet, which is blocking her departure, and her return to the Forge. If only she knew how close her home truly was… Isra twirls the Astral Flintlock in her hand -- the only modern weapon she still possesses -- and moves forward along the path. The hunt for the Devourer begins. And last, we go to the edge of all things. To a place even the Dreamer struggles to reach, on the border between existences, where there is no sound, no breath, and no time. The Void. We see Mist, hovering in the nothing, as four spirits fly around him -- a young boy, a rotting lich, an elderly man, and a broken man. Mist opens his eyes, feeling a presence, and the spirits turn. They have been waiting. We see the members of the Dream Team, faces haggard, as they make their first voyage into the nothing. Chamas calls for his Warden, but no sound escapes his lungs. Instead, the Baron of Bastion, David, steps forward, his palm resting on the hilt of his blade. David: “So you have come… But you shall not return with him, fair dreamers. He is ours now.” All four of the spirits draw weapons, and the vision fades…
Or it tries to. Something holds on, and we return to clarity, but Zandeer is no longer at the wheel. We hear a terrible cackle, and the sound of rattling chains, and then… The city of Absalom on fire. Goblins swarming the walls, led by their Demon queen. From the center of the city, light flashes, and an enormous, grotesque figure lifts itself from the wreckage, howling at the sky. It’s a Kaiju… A spawn of Rovagug. The Tarrasque. We shift again, to place on a different plane of existence, but with the same name. Absalom Station Station. Alexander Marcus is sitting at the head of a table, with key members of the Pact Council before him. They look… Unnerved. Pleased. Afraid. Above all, Lin Camulan looks straight ahead as he reads the sheet in front of him, his eyes dead of anything but misery. Lin Camulan: “The ayes have it. Alexander Marcus has been selected as the Director of the Pact Worlds under the provisions of the Magefire Assault Act… What is your plan, Director?” We pan up to Alexander Marcus, immaculate in an ebony suit -- save for a white burn scar on the left side of his face, which has turned that eye a startling cerulean blue. He smiles. Alexander Marcus: “Let’s get started.” A final shift, to the unholy planet of Aucturn. Where Carsai the King floats above the Gravid Mound, surrounded by its thirteen Midwives -- a cabal of spellcasters who believe a godling lives inside the planet, one that is waiting to be born. And they are right. Carsai looks down upon the egg, and his sickly yellow aura glows brighter, and the chant begins. And the vision fades.
Flay: “They have to be.” The view cuts, taking us across the seas of Castrovel, to the city of Qabarat, the prominent city state of the planet. But we do not dwell in the streets, or savor the aromas of the markets. Instead, we sink down, into an underground facility below the city, where a familiar figure is strapped to an operating table. His hair and beard have gone wild, his eyes wide with fear. Several diodes are attached to his head, his body limp. Chamas grumbles something, and his sister, Annwen, steps from the shadows to listen in. Annwen: “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
Chamas: “Warden... Isra. L- Lockette. Tesin. Corn- Cornelius… Flay.”
Annwen: “I told you, brother. They aren’t coming to help. They don’t need you.”
Chamas: “Warden. Don’t leave me. I’ll be better.” Annwen grabs her brother’s hair, pulling his eyes up to meet hers. She snarls, giving the Lashunta a sharp slap. Annwen: “I don’t care about Mist! He’s dead! Tell me about the keys!”
Chamas: “D- Dead?”
Annwen: “Yes, you fool. He never returned. We confirmed it. He’s--” A mote of entropy appears over Chamas’ head. His eyes focus. Annwen leaps back, graceful as a cat, and calls for the guards. This wasn’t supposed to be possible. He was sedated-- Chamas: : “I’m coming, Mist.” There is a blast of energy, and the vision fades… We go now to Ezorod, stuck in a liminal state between the Material Plane and Night, bounded on two sides by an impossibility. We see the Daughters of Night chanting in a circle, led by Hecate, and overseen by their father. Melody sits over Feral, channeling her energy as well, who is in turn fueled by three Pyric Hags. There is a huff of air from a wingbeat, and Tesin arrives in the center of the circle. The Wings of Night stretch wide on her back, balancing her landing, and her solar mote floats about her head like a simple crown. Carrot: “We’re nearly ready, my love. When it is done, it will be up to you, and whomever can still stand.”
Tesin: “The Eshtayiv?”
Carrot: “Still bound. But Alistair waits for us.” Tesin nods, and lets the battle calm fall over her. The barrier cracks. Light filters through all of Ezorod. Tesin grabs her Solarion mote, and activates it... The Scythe of Memory appears in her hands. We move on now, to the Vast, to the violent system of Typhoon, and the central moon of the planetoid Orikolai. The Swarm hover about it like locusts, feeding on the outer rings, their ships docked in the Stewards’ harbor. We pass them, and into the halls of the research facility… To a massive hangar, where the Swarm have spread their locust ilk, which covers the walls, floor, ceiling, and the Iron Drake. An enormous, spherical Outsider hovers in front of it, connected to the mech with biological wires. Far away, in the deepest reaches of the moon, a squad of Stewards form up, led by Lockette. Atticus McCallow can be heard on their comms. Atticus: “You know the mission. Lockette, you have command if comms go down. Am I clear?”
Lockette: “Clear.”
Atticus: “Good. Operation Lock n’ Load is a go. Godspeed, Omega Delta.” Lockette nods at her crew, and puts a helmet over her head, which clicks neatly into her armor. Then she turns, nanites roiling all over her body, and phases onto a motorcycle, with a fully-automatic machine gun nested in between the handlebars. Omega Delta Squad mounts similar vehicles, and then they soar out of their hiding place, and into the nest of the Swarm. Shifting away, but staying in the Vast, we arrive at another verdant planet, the wild and wonderful Safarae. But all is not well in hunter’s paradise… A fierce blackness swirls about the planet, it’s fangs and teeth setting with phasic light, with sinister wings forcing it to crawl through the atmosphere. The Haze pauses. An aspect of the Devourer. On the planet’s surface, we see Isra and Cornelius, who watch the creature hover in the sky, and then fly downward, towards its nest in the mountains. A crew of tribal Androids rise out of the undergrowth to meet her, chatting animatedly in an unknown tongue, which Isra responds in. The Haze translates as they continue. Merrygold: “Forgive me, Shepherd. But is this not an ill fate? Should we turn back?”
Isra: “There is no turning back… Not now.” Isra looks up to the oily haze that covers the planet, which is blocking her departure, and her return to the Forge. If only she knew how close her home truly was… Isra twirls the Astral Flintlock in her hand -- the only modern weapon she still possesses -- and moves forward along the path. The hunt for the Devourer begins. And last, we go to the edge of all things. To a place even the Dreamer struggles to reach, on the border between existences, where there is no sound, no breath, and no time. The Void. We see Mist, hovering in the nothing, as four spirits fly around him -- a young boy, a rotting lich, an elderly man, and a broken man. Mist opens his eyes, feeling a presence, and the spirits turn. They have been waiting. We see the members of the Dream Team, faces haggard, as they make their first voyage into the nothing. Chamas calls for his Warden, but no sound escapes his lungs. Instead, the Baron of Bastion, David, steps forward, his palm resting on the hilt of his blade. David: “So you have come… But you shall not return with him, fair dreamers. He is ours now.” All four of the spirits draw weapons, and the vision fades…
Or it tries to. Something holds on, and we return to clarity, but Zandeer is no longer at the wheel. We hear a terrible cackle, and the sound of rattling chains, and then… The city of Absalom on fire. Goblins swarming the walls, led by their Demon queen. From the center of the city, light flashes, and an enormous, grotesque figure lifts itself from the wreckage, howling at the sky. It’s a Kaiju… A spawn of Rovagug. The Tarrasque. We shift again, to place on a different plane of existence, but with the same name. Absalom Station Station. Alexander Marcus is sitting at the head of a table, with key members of the Pact Council before him. They look… Unnerved. Pleased. Afraid. Above all, Lin Camulan looks straight ahead as he reads the sheet in front of him, his eyes dead of anything but misery. Lin Camulan: “The ayes have it. Alexander Marcus has been selected as the Director of the Pact Worlds under the provisions of the Magefire Assault Act… What is your plan, Director?” We pan up to Alexander Marcus, immaculate in an ebony suit -- save for a white burn scar on the left side of his face, which has turned that eye a startling cerulean blue. He smiles. Alexander Marcus: “Let’s get started.” A final shift, to the unholy planet of Aucturn. Where Carsai the King floats above the Gravid Mound, surrounded by its thirteen Midwives -- a cabal of spellcasters who believe a godling lives inside the planet, one that is waiting to be born. And they are right. Carsai looks down upon the egg, and his sickly yellow aura glows brighter, and the chant begins. And the vision fades.
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