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Literature Text
The multiverse is like a rolodex, or at least, that's the simplest analogy any one person can understand without having their head explode. It has no true beginning or end, contains entries that are old and new, some that need to be updated, some that need to be added, some that need to be combined...and some that, in the most extreme cases, need to be taken out.
Looking at entry A121-09LFT, there are many worlds of established sentience. As a rule, every sentient world has a population of humanoids, actual humans being preferred. But the multiverses are equal-opportunity places, humans are not required anywhere; which might be why the inhabitants of many places happen to be a little less accommodating, whether it is from stupidity or necessity brought on by survival, no one can be entirely sure. In this case, Gromhyrria is the world of sentience to be focused upon and it does have human inhabitants.
This world is not flat...the great discoverer Elo the Tedious proved this some ten thousand years ago (to the chagrin of his wife, three mistresses and half the Society of Explorers). However, there are still other things to address, such as paradigm shifts, demons, technology running amok, magic going horribly right...and taxes.
It is in fact on the seventy-second floor of the Standardized House of International Taxation (or "Tax House" as it was less-formally called, but more 'respectfully' known) that a young accountant first saw the astral shift, a bright purple streak that rivaled lightning in its intensity. Of course, humans are notorious for discounting the unusual as something normal and this was no exception. Two things occurred to the woman as she pushed her papers aside: that lightning usually did not travel from ground to sky and that there was no sound of thunder before or after the flash.
She was officially the first to notice the discrepancy...though not the last.
-------------------------
Valderon City's lower quarter was covered in a thick blanket of dense smoke, one that seemed to have no origin and no definitive end. It just simply was and, by extension, the quarter just so happened to be buried in it. Muted honks ventured from the late-night traffic, through the haze and died the closer they got to the upper atmosphere, lending an oddly musical backdrop to the devastation atop the Cleef Building. The demon saw the irony of the situation and gritted pin-like teeth, trying to ignore the crater where the helipad used to be. One of the serpentine tendrils that came from its head gave a rebuking hiss and the demon silently agreed, only an idiot could ignore this...or someone well-paid. Thankfully, he was in the second category, though many idiots could be found on the lower floors.
Turning to look over the city, the demon gave a sigh and moved to a large slab of concrete that jutted haphazardly from the helipad. Its movements were highly controlled and almost cat-like, capable of offending by just being witnessed. This was the normal sign of a demon -- corruption by merely being present. Moving a lapel on its oversized coat, the demon fished a half-smashed cigarette from its pocket and placed the filter between thin lips. With a snap of the fingers, a small flame appeared out of thin air, hovering weakly as the demon took a few errant puffs and flickering into nothing once it was done.
"You've made a real mess here, Adolan," a soft, even voice came and the demon gave a snort towards the door that lead to the helipad.
A figure stood there, barely outlined by the faint fluorescent lights from the downstairs hallway. The demon could make out the features clearly, but there was something about this human that seemed shrouded beyond even his nocturnal vision. He suspected the figure had some demonic assistance, but could not sense an external source or link. Perhaps the figure was a mage or warlock; yes, that seemed to do just fine for an explanation.
"You said this saboteur was just a slimy thief wandering in and out of your company," Adolan answered, his voice a breathless rattle through his teeth. "But the thing I faced, was not a normal, mortal creature. It was either a demon, or a very powerful magic user."
The figure in the doorway tensed visibly, while the demon continued to puff its cigarette with a thoughtful expression. He knew that come the morning, the police would be here to investigate and likely the Guild and Black Knights would attempt to stake their territories concerning the damage. Such was always the case when demons and magic got involved, normal people were never able to cope with what they couldn't understand. Whatever business the Cleef Building had planned for tomorrow would be halted until evidence had been collected; quite possibly the best example of passive sabotage Adolan had ever experienced...and he had been quite the saboteur.
"Ogdin," Adolan whispered, his snake-headed tendrils unraveling to thrash nervously at the spiritual resonance now piercing the haze. "Do you sense it?"
The figure stepped forward, his weathered face a grim mask of determination. Ultimately, he gave a curt nod and looked over towards the roof's edge. "It's the Guild's litle toy."
"It's hardly a toy," Adolan admitted as he stood and exhaled mightily. "They've stolen the voice of a Siren and recalibrated it. It causes fluctuations in the spiritual fabric of this planet and disrupts magic of almost any kind. Mine...and yours."
"So, you'll be leaving?" Ogdin muttered, kicking one of the smaller pieces of rubble. "I don't pay for half-jobs, Mr. Adolan. And the damage to my building is not going to pay for itself."
At this, the demon gave its first smile. "I can always hang around and give my statement to the Guild...or Black Knights. I'm sure that whomever shows up first would like to know where I got all of that money. You know, the tax-free money."
"You think you're so clever," Ogdin muttered. "But you do know, you did not earn your paycheck this time around. Perhaps I should just go ahead and pay the saboteur and cut you out altogether."
I'm surprised you haven't tried it already, Adolan thought as one of his colorless orbs squinted at Ogdin's gaunt figure through the slowly-dispersing haze. "So, how do you want this handled?"
"Since you have to leave anyway, get in contact with your 'associates' in those slime pits you demons relax in," Ogdin sighed as he turned his back on Adolan. "See if any of them knows who this creature is that keeps breaking into my building."
Adolan gave a curt nod and turned to leave, but paused just long enough to aim one final question over his shoulder at Ogdin. "Are you certain it isn't that Thing you're keeping under the building?"
"Leave, Adolan," the man said as he went through the door to the helipad and slammed it.
So, Adolan thought as he extended a hand. It is what you've been keeping in the basement. And yet, you want me to conduct a farce of an investigation. Interesting.
The demon extended a hand, focusing its energy into the center of the palm and extending it vertically until a bright purple slit appeared in mid-air. The slit suddenly stretched, gaping wider until Adolan could comfortably step through the portal. Allowing himself a moment to concentrate, he pulled the edges of the portal shut and focused them to one point, sending a bright streak of light skyward...past the windows of the Tax House. A sole accountant at the Tax House noticed the light, but thought nothing of it. Her only concern that night had been numbers and how many of the numbers from the Cleef Building had not been adding up.
Looking at entry A121-09LFT, there are many worlds of established sentience. As a rule, every sentient world has a population of humanoids, actual humans being preferred. But the multiverses are equal-opportunity places, humans are not required anywhere; which might be why the inhabitants of many places happen to be a little less accommodating, whether it is from stupidity or necessity brought on by survival, no one can be entirely sure. In this case, Gromhyrria is the world of sentience to be focused upon and it does have human inhabitants.
This world is not flat...the great discoverer Elo the Tedious proved this some ten thousand years ago (to the chagrin of his wife, three mistresses and half the Society of Explorers). However, there are still other things to address, such as paradigm shifts, demons, technology running amok, magic going horribly right...and taxes.
It is in fact on the seventy-second floor of the Standardized House of International Taxation (or "Tax House" as it was less-formally called, but more 'respectfully' known) that a young accountant first saw the astral shift, a bright purple streak that rivaled lightning in its intensity. Of course, humans are notorious for discounting the unusual as something normal and this was no exception. Two things occurred to the woman as she pushed her papers aside: that lightning usually did not travel from ground to sky and that there was no sound of thunder before or after the flash.
She was officially the first to notice the discrepancy...though not the last.
-------------------------
Valderon City's lower quarter was covered in a thick blanket of dense smoke, one that seemed to have no origin and no definitive end. It just simply was and, by extension, the quarter just so happened to be buried in it. Muted honks ventured from the late-night traffic, through the haze and died the closer they got to the upper atmosphere, lending an oddly musical backdrop to the devastation atop the Cleef Building. The demon saw the irony of the situation and gritted pin-like teeth, trying to ignore the crater where the helipad used to be. One of the serpentine tendrils that came from its head gave a rebuking hiss and the demon silently agreed, only an idiot could ignore this...or someone well-paid. Thankfully, he was in the second category, though many idiots could be found on the lower floors.
Turning to look over the city, the demon gave a sigh and moved to a large slab of concrete that jutted haphazardly from the helipad. Its movements were highly controlled and almost cat-like, capable of offending by just being witnessed. This was the normal sign of a demon -- corruption by merely being present. Moving a lapel on its oversized coat, the demon fished a half-smashed cigarette from its pocket and placed the filter between thin lips. With a snap of the fingers, a small flame appeared out of thin air, hovering weakly as the demon took a few errant puffs and flickering into nothing once it was done.
"You've made a real mess here, Adolan," a soft, even voice came and the demon gave a snort towards the door that lead to the helipad.
A figure stood there, barely outlined by the faint fluorescent lights from the downstairs hallway. The demon could make out the features clearly, but there was something about this human that seemed shrouded beyond even his nocturnal vision. He suspected the figure had some demonic assistance, but could not sense an external source or link. Perhaps the figure was a mage or warlock; yes, that seemed to do just fine for an explanation.
"You said this saboteur was just a slimy thief wandering in and out of your company," Adolan answered, his voice a breathless rattle through his teeth. "But the thing I faced, was not a normal, mortal creature. It was either a demon, or a very powerful magic user."
The figure in the doorway tensed visibly, while the demon continued to puff its cigarette with a thoughtful expression. He knew that come the morning, the police would be here to investigate and likely the Guild and Black Knights would attempt to stake their territories concerning the damage. Such was always the case when demons and magic got involved, normal people were never able to cope with what they couldn't understand. Whatever business the Cleef Building had planned for tomorrow would be halted until evidence had been collected; quite possibly the best example of passive sabotage Adolan had ever experienced...and he had been quite the saboteur.
"Ogdin," Adolan whispered, his snake-headed tendrils unraveling to thrash nervously at the spiritual resonance now piercing the haze. "Do you sense it?"
The figure stepped forward, his weathered face a grim mask of determination. Ultimately, he gave a curt nod and looked over towards the roof's edge. "It's the Guild's litle toy."
"It's hardly a toy," Adolan admitted as he stood and exhaled mightily. "They've stolen the voice of a Siren and recalibrated it. It causes fluctuations in the spiritual fabric of this planet and disrupts magic of almost any kind. Mine...and yours."
"So, you'll be leaving?" Ogdin muttered, kicking one of the smaller pieces of rubble. "I don't pay for half-jobs, Mr. Adolan. And the damage to my building is not going to pay for itself."
At this, the demon gave its first smile. "I can always hang around and give my statement to the Guild...or Black Knights. I'm sure that whomever shows up first would like to know where I got all of that money. You know, the tax-free money."
"You think you're so clever," Ogdin muttered. "But you do know, you did not earn your paycheck this time around. Perhaps I should just go ahead and pay the saboteur and cut you out altogether."
I'm surprised you haven't tried it already, Adolan thought as one of his colorless orbs squinted at Ogdin's gaunt figure through the slowly-dispersing haze. "So, how do you want this handled?"
"Since you have to leave anyway, get in contact with your 'associates' in those slime pits you demons relax in," Ogdin sighed as he turned his back on Adolan. "See if any of them knows who this creature is that keeps breaking into my building."
Adolan gave a curt nod and turned to leave, but paused just long enough to aim one final question over his shoulder at Ogdin. "Are you certain it isn't that Thing you're keeping under the building?"
"Leave, Adolan," the man said as he went through the door to the helipad and slammed it.
So, Adolan thought as he extended a hand. It is what you've been keeping in the basement. And yet, you want me to conduct a farce of an investigation. Interesting.
The demon extended a hand, focusing its energy into the center of the palm and extending it vertically until a bright purple slit appeared in mid-air. The slit suddenly stretched, gaping wider until Adolan could comfortably step through the portal. Allowing himself a moment to concentrate, he pulled the edges of the portal shut and focused them to one point, sending a bright streak of light skyward...past the windows of the Tax House. A sole accountant at the Tax House noticed the light, but thought nothing of it. Her only concern that night had been numbers and how many of the numbers from the Cleef Building had not been adding up.
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