And then when we can't think of how to start it, we create memes

Sorry for posting this late, kinda kept remembering and then forgetting by the time I had a chance, as no one explained, and the others chose the second option, I have gone with that

In the end you decide to follow the second voice, as it makes the most sense in your collective eyes. As you slowly get down off of the pile of bodies nearly reaching the ceiling, you find a few weird trinkets, but the best find before you decide searching them is not worth it is a small hunting knife. Yet that is where you stop as you can feel their flesh getting more and more decayed, becoming almost a slime coating everything, and making balancing hard. You manage to keep your balance until on one step near the bottom, you slip, unable to keep steady on top of this rot. As you hit the bottom, you nearly freeze up as what you thought was ooze is more like a thick, slimy paste, coming up to nearly the halfway point of your crus, releasing a horrid smell of death causing your stomach to turn upside down.

On the other end of the room, you see a workbench with some of the most modern things on them, as well as a few things that look magical, such as a weird black corner shaped object hanging up away from everything else. You could get a crossbow from there, it would pierce anything you could think of, or a much more simple melee weapon, maybe a sword.

As you try to walk over there, it becomes clear how difficult it will be to walk with how deep the sludge is on its own, not to mention your balance being thrown off with the nausea. “We need to get out of here, you have a weapon!” “Yeah, a small knife!” Do you really want to walk all that way through that!” The two main voices argue. The third stayed silent.

I feel this

@nathanwpyle

I literally love this.

I couldn't stop laughing for 20 minutes.

No joke.

Your head pounds as a cacophony of voices wakes you up, all shouting from within your head. Slowly a light forest green light starts to fill your vision, your face seeming to scorch as a calm, dejected voice drowns out the others. “You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you, though now is not the time to rest.” It says, before the scorching heat ends, as you feel yourself start to fall.

As you fall, the smell of death, while distant, becomes clear, before you feel yourself contort into a painful shape, the smell of death overtaking any other smell. “Where are we?” “Have we returned?” “Get up, GET up now, we yet live it seems.” The voices coalesce into three main voices, two frantic, wavering in between hundreds of different voices, and one quieter, more assertive, singular voice, sounding like that dejected one that brought you here. With no other option but to lay there, you slowly stand up, finally opening your eyes to the horror in front of you.

You stand in the center of a chamber, the stone stained black from death and decay, slowly becoming lighter in color as it goes higher, and higher. The ground looks to be covered in a black sludge, except for a central mound of bodies where you stand. “We need to get out of here!” “But what of anything that might be useful here?” say the two chaotic voices, continuing to argue. “Do you wish to forge your own path, reborn?” asks the third voice, just loud enough for you to hear it.

Chapter 7: All is lost?

“Fool, doth thou not know the consequences? Thou hath doomed not only an entire real, but EVERY...”

“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE DONE RATHALIA, I KNOW ALL TOO WELL! YET YOUR TYRANY MUST BE STOPPED!”

“Not even I could stop an entire universe from collapsing Nakar-born, and at best you merely rival me.”

“What did you just call me?”

“I called you by your family name... Nakar.”

The flashes of lightning, the sky split open, spilling out every color imaginable and growing, cracking even the ground, or fusing it, the universe trembled, as the great restorer, and the great challenger fought. Tendrils of might being sent off and colliding with black holes, great beings warping around the planet one swore to protect, and one who had sworn to remake it, only one could stand, and Fate and Void had already decided who before the fight started. Edward Nakar Winter Astora, now known only by Nakar, the great one, would reign over a new world, even if their attention would be pulled away in the final moments.

Rathalia’s fear was clear, his fate becoming more and more clear as his attacks slowed and stuttered, his movements becoming more and more sloppy, and his age starting to show. He started focusing less and less on the fight, and more on power transference, maybe if he could give Nakar his power, his will, then perhaps, the universe he cared for so would survive... even if he would not. One final slash is all it took, a final screech, a massive burst of energy seeming to scorch everything on its path, leaving one being, Nakar, alone in a dying world.

“Rathalia, what did you do?” he said to himself, his voice sounding more and more like two different beings competing to be heard, as he saw the sky, once bleeding rainbows, now turned an abyssal black, with a grey fog pouring from its depths. “no... no no nononONONONO I REFUSE TO LET THIS WORLD DIE ‘DIE’ ‘DIe’ ‘Die’ die’” echoed out as a great wave of power washed over the world, forming a crystalline cage around what was left, radiating all kind of runes into the void, expanding the crystal and pushing back the void, until it was fully withdrawn, the sky still bleeding, until Nakar retreated into a different realm, and all stood still.

“End of Part 1”

Chapter 6: realms shattered

A searing light exploded from the colliding ideals, generating more power and strength as it sapped from that around it, before creating a dome as a single, grey body fell from its center, a small orb of light intercepting it and crashing it into the ground, cracking it. This being, their skin filled with colorful runes of all kinds, mimicking the journal as they lay there, motionless. Hours passed before the figure stirred under the dome, revealing fractal like wings phasing in and out of reality, a scorched mark on the figure's chest, in the shape of a rune, although too badly damaged to tell, and cracks allowing an inner glow to shine through, this... thing, not Thorngrass, although they were now watching with interest, yet not Edward, his form shattered, his brain dead, yet clearly active, his movements as if he was pulled by threads, yet left afterimages when he moved, testing the dome corrupting the realm it now held captive, causing cracks and fragments to form, as the area around it crystallized.

He looked around, his mind racing from the visions he was being tormented by, visions of his fated path, visions of his wife being tormented by Rathalia, visons of a dome tearing the environment outside of it, and the reality of a realm being devastated by his own selfish desire. He knew that this conflict would destroy the real world, but maybe he would be able to restart everything, maybe he can fix this, but how? How can one powerful being hope to restart all after the collapse of the world they inhabit... what if they use their power to stop it from collapsing fully?

The being seemed to focus, making it clear Edward survived the transformation, as he truly saw what his selfish desire had done, a realm tearing itself apart from its seams, he would quiet the eternal cries, until only his remained. As the dome fell, it gathered back in his hands, forming into an orb of both brilliant golds and searing whites, and void blacks and crystalline blues, before combining into a deep forest green, before shooting out as a beam of energy, causing the dreams to take a true form, vaporizing whatever it passed by and through, with a large, shattered mirror like area surrounding it, striking the god he fought. The ground around him becoming even more damaged.

Rathalia retaliated by attempting to contain this new threat, grasping it, trying to send it to the depths of his realm, now under attack because of his own hubris underestimating this once mortal, now a threat to existence. Edward countered with a massive screech, forcing the millions of hands grasping and dragging him into that cursed portal, before letting off an explosion shaking the entire realm, leaving not but Rathalia alive, destroying even the foundations of this world, before a single charge from Edward forced the realm to collapse, and spill out into the world of set forms, with two being causing the sky itself to split.

Chapter 5: Released potential

I have been practicing for 45 WINTERS in this realm, let’s hope I didn’t get something wrong. Start with the runes, starting with the runes of protection, an additional four added, one to each forearm and shoulder, then comes the rune of protection, prepped yesterday I must infuse it with magic mixed between the worlds for it to work. Then comes the catalyst, my soul channeled into it, separating it from my body upon the final step, before it recombines with what I will become. Then comes the second catalyst, a salt base mixed with ether on the back of my hands and connecting all the runes, allowing the magic to flow properly between all of them. Finally, a dagger long enough to pierce my heart, freeing me from this body and morphing it into something of both realms.

I know not what will remain of me when this is all over, will I be simply a revenant, cursed to forever seek revenge, will I keep my sanity and end it before it all gets out of hand, or will I go insane from the new experience, shattering all that strays too close, a monument to the hubris of man, thinking that with enough skill and might, they could kill a god with its own power, constantly lashing out at my own world? I suppose there is only one way to find out, I’m sorry Sophi for bringing this being into our lives, and I’m sorry that I am doing this, I hope you are safe in your afterlife.

A loud cracking sound radiated throughout the dreams, as a bright and dark orb formed in the distance, swirling each other like black holes in a death spiral, before charging into each other. Bright colors expanding from its depth, causing large, long tendrils of might to lash out scorched the god that railed against their attacks, sapping its own strength for its enemy, the Nakar-born, just became akin to a God itself, but what would remain, and for sure Rathalia would be able to end whatever it became. Though as he thought this, he heard a loud, ear-piercing shatter.

Chapter 4: plan of attack

I have been in this realm for what in my world would be 25 winters in this realm, slowly learning its ins and outs, and I think I know how to beat it. The magic of this realm isn’t too dissimilar to the magics of my realm, but they require less rigidity, it’s more true magic than a science, but a human body is far too rigid to properly cast this altered magic. I believe I have found a way to change that, a specific ritual based around body magic, channeling the abyssal subset specifically, and more specifically within that subset, molecule alteration.

It requires a few things, three runes placed upon what you are altering, the specific runes being dependent on what is being altered, I will need, two runes of protection, both on my palms, and a rune of strength on my chest. The next thing I will need is some catalyst, this can be incredibly basic, such as a simple salt or water, the more common chemical ones, or even a magical catalyst, as a hand caster I will use my own body. Finally, I will need a surge of the improper magic, specifically mind magic mixed with body, one that works the same combined with one that doesn’t work. In hoc iudicio Deum Somnia vincam, diu retractatus est. Somnia involvam, quae me bello decepta juvat, Et cadat in ferrum.

Chapter 3: "If you don't mind a touch of hell"

All those who knew Edward said he was very different since finding that journal. At first, he just seemed a bit tired, loftier with how he spoke and moved, then he started getting a bit restless, he seemed to withdrawal within his house more, focused but seemingly not sleeping much. Paranoia soon followed, his own family asking him who he was, his wife disappearing after wanting to see why he was studying that stupid journal so much, never returning from the study after a bright flash of light... he disappeared ten days later.

“Where have you been my dear, I’ve been so lonely?” Said a soft, comforting voice. “Quiet you demon, you took her, and now wear her skin. You must be stopped.” He said with a familiar vitriol, now turned outward toward his tormentor. “Well quite a disappointment really, I had high hopes for you, Astora-kin.” The hateful, acrid voice rang out, a deep resonance coming from it, the sky itself seeming to shake from its expression of power. “You no longer scare me, parasite.” “That will be your downfall.”

After the last word came from this great gateway, it was as if a star ignited within the house, from the journal, brilliant lights shined from every rune, as Edward seemed to catch on fire, a fire of his own, countering, and pushing back the dark center of the light ever so slightly. Before it grabbed him, tensing in pain. "You hurt yourself to drag me under parasite! Is this worth it, adding me to your insufferable prison!” “To set an example of where resistance gets you.” It said, annoyance clear in its acrid voice. “Good luck you bastard.” Edward’s aura seemed to sharpen, and right as he was dragged past the point of no return, he fired, skewering the hand that bound him, and setting his house ablaze, nothing was salvageable after the ashes settled, and the journal was nowhere to be found.

The demon that wished to bind him, momentarily stunned, would soon be on the chase, so he had to act quick or all would be for not, weaving through passages in mountains, hunkering in caves, morning at a body, he quickly found a spot far from the source, some odd 3,000 miles away, taking around 5 days to reach, where he started to familiarize himself with this realm, so different from his own. Starting with trying the magic he knew, even though he knew the answer already, as nothing happened, next he tried to shape the area around him, to limited success, it was as if he was within one of the many dreams, he knew not how long it would take, but he would escape.

Success and failure are equally disastrous in this place, if I fail, everything I have done will be for nothing, and if I succeed, I replace what I destroy. A heavy sigh escapes him as he continues to practice casting within this realm, “Grasp the heart, focus the soul, sharpen the mind, Grasp the heart, focus the soul, sharpen the mind, Grasp the heart, focus the soul, sharpen the mind... but what of body... it matters not. Body, an illusion in here, holds me back, but how do I lose my body and keep my mind a part of me... how would such a feat be done?

Chapter 2: nightmares awaken

With dreams come nightmares, nightmares which one has no control over, bred by treading too far within the dream and seeing things far beyond what your eyes should see, and having no way out. The Journal, this thing of great power, it seems to enjoy my experimentation, letting me rail against my shackles as if I was experiencing sleep paralysis, unable to move, only watch, slowly gaining more movement until finally having some semblance of control, before it sends me right back to square one. This thing is no god, nor a demon, or even some truly powerful being in our realm. It is the dreams manifested within our realm, and they are vindictive.

The God I rebel against, they are older than what I can know, yet I can feel the power they hold over me wane with each trip. Seeing me as the others here, powerless to do anything against them, their prisoners, trapped within their own memories, dreams and nightmares. I will free them from their torment. But to do that...

I must slip past the veil, to do as I promise, but I know not how yet, I need just slightly more time, time I don’t think I will have. He watches me, torments me with my own nightmares and past. Halcyon help me see past the darkness, Tynath give me the strength to fight this god.

Chapter 1: First Encounters

Dreams and memories are like two rivers flowing parallel and near, waters and sediment from both ending up within the other. Often memories are altered to be more like dreams each time you recall them, things slowly being added until it is merely fiction around a small kernel of truth, with dreams often being influenced by memories and life itself. But this, thing, this journal seems to be able to show them in perfect detail, even if not of your life. Although I have a feeling something isn’t quite right, what I am shown does not seem connected to me, and over the 3 years I have had it, our first meeting keeps coming to mind, mainly it using Astora, my last name, as a title with its tone being that of an accusation. I am starting to think that perhaps I am not truly of that line, but of a different, but I do suppose I should introduce myself.

I am Edward Nakar Winter Astora, born and raised in my hometown of Juniper Grove, a quiet small town known for its junipers and gin, and for its concentration of super-natural entities, many of which are rather peaceful. For most of my life, writing has been my passion along with the study of how plants can be used in medicine. My life has been dominated by research into the supernatural beings of the second era, from the great beings of Cykarath, to the lowly ones of Sekna, where they are most concentrated. My town comes in second for how many of these beings exist here, and all of them are fascinating, from the Whistler Dyna to the forest spirits that surround us, they do not mind being studied, but encourage it.

But out of all my 45 years upon this planet, I have never seen something quite like this journal. Most super-naturals seem to not fully belong to this world, with few exceptions, they are always misty when viewed and always seem to be in some kind of pain. The only other supernatural I know of right off the top of my head that is of this world is The Whistler, but he himself has told me what he is, a human warped with body magic.

The journal is different however, being something clearly from this world, but seemingly so old that it knows as much as an author should about a world they are constructing. It talks about the past, shows different memories of past people who walked the earth, even as far back as the dark elves if you can believe that. But I suppose I should talk about what it has shown me instead of just rambling about what it may be.

The journal shows all kinds of memories, but if you wish to recall your own, you must give it access, otherwise all it can do is show you other people’s memories, but that is not all it can do, it can also show dreams, and even let you truly relive events or watch events from those long gone. Over the past three years, I have seen the rise and collapse of the Dark Elf empire, the massive changes in lands, the rise of the different magics, and even the reign of one Nykal White-mane, the Astora of Dominic, a brutal tyrant who seemed to take immense pleasure in harming those weaker than him. The paths it takes between them, a massive tunnel, colors warping past faster than one can perceive, a constant sense of floating coming from your core as your body becomes numb, and your mind more aware of everything around you, how little that is.

While you remain within that realm, you can at a moment's notice change what you are viewing, switching between different things held within it, it’s almost dreamlike. In fact, some of the knowledge shown may be dreams, as there are illogical things shown constantly, this, thing, seems to be drawing you into a dream world where you cannot change anything, not even the smallest things such as a few grains of sand. I wonder if I can change that.

As you exit, the same tunnel happens, and feeling returns rapidly, causing a bit of pain. The aftereffects of traveling into this realm are immense, nausea and weakness with blurred that lasts for around 4-6 weeks, but how much you can learn outweighs the side effects. I mean great knowledge, things that people want to know, want to be able to see. Yet most wouldn’t want to do it because of the effects. Yet someone has to be willing to do it, and I care not for body, only my mind.

Every post past this is subject to alterations due to different drafts, edits, and all that.

All of those will be posted during prime time (4PM-12AM)

Prologue: secrets unlocked

He found the diary buried underneath a stack of old newspapers; it looked familiar. He always enjoyed writing, mostly short little stories for the newspapers around town, although he did author a few novels, and he liked to keep his works as references and to prevent recycling ideas too often. But he never owned a journal, at least, that’s what he thought as he stared at the large, leather-bound one with runes like rhinestones burned into the leather, hiding its natural pattern.

Getting it open was tricky, never seeing a way for it to be sealed shut, looking it over time after time, seeing the runes light up in rhythm, starting at the large one in the upper right-hand corner, before sprinting to the middle, jumping up to the left corner, warping to the lower right, slowly meandering in a non-set pattern to the lower left, before warping to reset. He tried everything he could think of, following the path with his finger, the tip of a quill, with and without ink although you could not tell and doing the same backward. He tried to pry it open, both with mundane and magical means to no avail, until a ridiculous thought occurred.

"I am Edward Nakar Astora, and by my name you will open for ME!" He said, vitriol clear within the stifled shout. “Very well... Astora-kin.” said a deep, emotionless voice, gravel almost choking the words said into nothing but a growl before the journal’s runes reacted. This time, instead of the normal pattern, it lit up like a star, starting on the innermost jewel, radiating outward until it blinded Edward and shined light through his blackout curtains, saying "Welcome... Child of Astora Nalcel, do you wish to see the path of your... ‘ancestors’?" "Yes, I would." He said with a faint worry hidden with subdued excitement.