The Reader of The Ancient Tomes's Story

One of many portals suddenly rippled with energy as a robed figure few through the door between space-time. The woman- for it was a woman- soared back-first, arcing towards the ground as gravity took hold. The Reader bounced off her read and spun backwards. She struck her head against the pavement, before she found herself fully airborne once more. One more identical landing, and she lay stiff on the pavement. Many a civilian watched, unsure of what to think of the sight before them. One considered calling the Guard.

However, after a few seconds, the robed woman groaned, muffled slightly by her helmet, before planting both hands on the ground by her chest, and pushing herself up to a seated position. From there, she brought her legs close and pushed herself back onto her feet. It took her a second to get her bearings and restore her sense of balance. By that time, the Reader could finally get a good look at her surroundings.

The city appeared to be the very epitome of a concept the reader knew as “Schizo-Tech”. Everything from medieval to cybernetic-based architecture filled the city with a huge variety of sights. Up and down the street were many different buildings. On the ground levels, many similar portals were scattered around. In the sky, the Reader could see several large, space-faring craft leaving and entering the atmosphere. Much of this technology, the Reader had never seen before. This was the robed woman’s first time in Wing City.

The loose parts of her robe billowed as the wind began to pick up. Though still slightly dazed from the force that sent her flying through the portal, the Reader dropped her guard to find a place to lay low for while- maybe even rest. She had nothing to fear from the portal. The beast that landed the hit was at least three times larger than the portal. It would be absurd if it could follow. After a short scan of her surroundings, the nearest identified place was an especially tall tavern called “Gambit’s”. The woman checked her hands to find that her void-light “gauntlets” were still active. With a thought, she dispelled the enhancement. She then approached the tavern and pushed the double-doors open with each hand.

The Reader walked with a slight limp, which became less visible in the lower levels of light within Gambit’s bar. She stepped her way around random patrons, empty chairs, and tables covered with glasses of varying fullness. Most that were unoccupied were empty, save for the ice that remained. Several servers of varying genders and species milled about to clear off unoccupied tables. The Reader did not take a table. Rather, she approached the bar. If the creature from the other side somehow made it through, it would have to contend with the entirety of Wing City to get another shot at killing the robed woman.

On the plus side, she did get what she was after: A golf ball-sized amethyst capable of holding energy- a very useful tool for someone with her abilities. She kept it in a pouch strapped to her belt, hidden under the looser parts of her outer robe.

The drink she ordered was a simple shooter. Specifically, a screwdriver. Orange juice combined with that hard-biting stuff made for a decent, cheap drink. She paid for the drink immediately; she did not plan to open a tab. Once she got her drink, the Reader stood once more and looked around for someplace to sit. Someplace where socializing can happen. Someplace where knowledge can be exchanged.

There was a woman by her lonesome at a table. She appeared to be playing with a deck of cards. Card games were always a good pass-time while waiting for energy to recharge. With drink in hand, the Reader slipped between the other tables as she approached.

To the lone woman, the lone Reader asked “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” she indicated one of the empty chairs. Her voice was average in pitch and resonance, muffled slightly by the black helmet she always wore. With the hood over her head, coupled with the lighting, the Reader appeared to have no face- only a void.

Shuffling the cards, she almost had a faraway look to her eyes, as if she were in some sort of trance like state. It wasn't until she was approached that her eyes moved, blinking rapidly to focus. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” A woman stood before her, wrapped in robes and the air of adventure. Lavette's head turned to the side, eyeing a chair that sat across from the comfort of the half circular booth's plush seating and round table.

"Are you here to have your fortune told?" Her hands had stopped the mess of shuffling, scooping the cards into a neat and tidy pile in her palms, her fingers stroking the deck softly as if they were a pet or a child's head. With the press of her foot against the seat of the chair across from her, she slid it out with a sudden shove - backing it enough for the woman to pull and sit down in.

Lavette eyed the drink in the woman's hand, the sudden feeling of thirst coming to her throat with a light tingle and with the slow movement of her hand over a part of the table, a crystallized glass appeared, a light bit of condensation clinging to the sides. Ice water.

"Tell me traveller, what is your name?"

“Oh, it’s those kinds of cards?” the Reader asked as she slipped into the thoughtfully provided chair. She placed the 4-oz glass containing the shooter onto the table. The darker light made the ornate details in the glass stand out more… or maybe it was the orange juice. Tarot cards make for a good time-waster, but the Reader did expect Hold’em. Regardless, she sincerely replied, “That sounds like a worthwhile experience.”

The little magic trick performed by the other woman impressed the Reader. She hadn’t learned a trick like that. Being able to summon clean drinking water would be a far more useful ability to have than any of the hard Void-light spells the Reader knew. She knew she would have to ask before they part ways.

Before the Reader could ask about the spell, the dashing silver-haired woman asked, “Tell me traveller, what is your name?”

The question gave the Reader pause. After reading the Ancient tomes and the subsequent thirst for knowledge, her name had been lost to all but those who already knew it before. The Reader threw her hood back, and she pulled off her helmet, revealing short red hair, spiked from wearing the helmet for so long, on top of a strong-jawed, yet fair face. Her green eyes blinked once before focusing on the screwdriver. After taking a sip of her drink, she replied “I had a name… but you can call me The Reader, or Scholar.”

Watching the woman take a seat, she nodded. "Yes, THOSE cards." She laughed a bit, the sound coming out like a low toned bell that increased in pitch slightly the longer she held it. She could see the moment of discomfort as the woman tried to recall her name as if she had completely forgotten it, which was a strange concept indeed. Her words confirmed it, she had no idea. A moment of desire to help her recall it was strong within Lavette, but she swallowed the emotion, burying it. She did not offer such things to people - at least not right away.

"Reader. Scholar. Reminds me of books, you must read a lot if you wish to be called that. Alright Reader, tell me. Do you know how tarot works?"


Had the woman said no, she would delve into an explanation. "Tarot is the opportunity to learn about ones life in a different way. Our energy is stored into the cards during a shuffle, our reading becomes geared to us. Each question you ask reaches the very soul of these cards, and will allow me to read them in a way that will answer you. Now, the cards are not a factual answer giver. There is no true yes or no, for the future is always changing. The way I interpret the cards is of my own mind's work from what they tell me and I suggest you listen to what I do and [b]DON'T say. With that said, if you would like to know something please, ask a specific question. I will create a spread based on it. Do you have any questions?"[/color]

The Reader’s expression seemed indifferent when it came to her real name. To the purple-garbed mage, there was no need for it at the moment. The lifelong goal was still a long way’s off, and the amethyst she acquired was only one fraction of a baby step towards that accomplishment.

“A specific question…” With a hum, the Reader leaned back. There was always a question, the Hunger made sure there would always be a question. Said questions have always boiled down to “Where can I find more to learn?” This question was clearly too general for the purposes of Tarot. There was much pondering for the next while. As she thought, she took sips from her screwdriver. She would have to reserve her questions about the water spell for later.

Perhaps she was going at this the wrong way. A specific question regarding locations seemed like something the cards were not suitable to answer. For the Reader, the Hunger was always for the knowledge recorded in the past and present. It was when her mind reached that observation that her choice became abundantly clear. “Would a question regarding a potential future suffice?” She asked as she placed her glass on the table.

Shuffling the cards, Lavette nodded. "Yes, that is fine. There are many spreads, many questions to be asked." She pushed over the deck to The Reader, with a soft smile. "I will ask you to shuffle the deck, let it take in your energy as you mull over your questions. Think carefully. When you are ready, give the cards back and let me know of your question. We can go from there, but do remember, the future is ever changing, and these cards are merely a guideline."

As she waited,s he reached up to grasp at a silk tie on her cloak, pulling it till the fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling behind her body. She wore a beautiful white gown made of a shimmered cloth, covered in a layer of lace. Her arms were covered, ending in a point on her hand's back, secured by a loop around a finger so it would not slide down. Her collar bones were exposed by a scoop line necklace and a beautiful moon pendant hung in between the valley of her chest. If one paid close attention to the moon pendant they would notice the swirl of colours and light from inside, as if there was a galaxy or a realm beyond the stone. A crescent moon ring sat on her left finger, a sun on her right.

Sitting back, she waited patiently, eager to read this woman's request. Her eyes skimmed to the door opening, a young dark haired girl entering with some kind of creature bumbling after her. She had seen creatures like that when she moved along the dream world, poking in here and there to sleeping minds, but she never imagined she would see one for herself. She scoffed quietly, mumbling to herself. "Well I'll be..interesting.

The Reader took up the deck as was instructed. She then shuffled with amateur dexterity. It was clear that while very familiar with the concept of cards, she rarely had her hands on such things. She was, after all, very book-smart. She screwed up the third shufffle, spilling a handful of cards on the table. With a wordless curse, she gathered the scraps of paper and shuffled one more time. The fourth time was when she finally got into the groove of the shuffling.

Once she finished, she placed the deck of cards back on the table, closer to the side of the fortune teller. It was then that she heard said woman mumble something. “Hmm?” the Reader asked. She then saw that the woman had taken notice of something by the entrance. The Reader turned her torso, letting an arm hang over the back of her chair. At the entrance was a dark-haired girl, followed by a small… thing… that the Reader had never seen before. Was it a creature from yet another world?

The Reader wanted to catalogue it, like everything else… But it would be rude to abandon the fortune-telling, especially since she had just finished shuffling the cards. The warlock turned back to focus once more on the activity, and especially her drink. She took yet another sip.

“Alright, now what?” She asked.

[Sorry Holy, I never got a notification that you had mentioned me!!!]

Lavette watched the woman stumble about with her precious cards. A moment of fear as the cards spilled lurched inside of her and it took all of her not to sweep the cards up, and show her how to do it properly. By the fourth attempt though, the woman showed some finesse and she relaxed a bit. The young woman with the creature had not noticed either of them, and she waited for her deck back. As The Reader finished shuffling the deck, she reached forward and took it into her hands. The surge of energy poured into her finger tips, the familiar tingle making her shiver slightly. This one was wise, so very wise, reading her fortune surely had to be interesting.

"I need you to ask me a question. A specific question, so I know what I'm looking for when I spread the cards."Lavette tilted her head, and she idly thumbed through the cards, shuffling them slowly. She was feeling the cards, how some stuck out to her more than others and the urge to drawl one out of the deck was tempting, but she waited.

Something specific… Indeed, specific questions were dime-a-dozen. Specificity was the Reader’s business. Learning, cataloguing, remembering. The Reader forgot nothing, especially about what she read. Specific questions were everywhere in her mind. Questions like “What limits are there to the Multiverse?” or “What will evolution bring to the present in a few hundred years?” or “Who came up with the term “oink” to describe the sound a pig makes? “oink” was not the sound a pig makes- at least, not the pronunciation people use.

Ignoring that observation, there was only one specific question the Reader really cared about. The Reader sipped at her drink once more. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed a gloved finger across the water-covered exterior of the cold drink. She then asked “Will I build the library I dream to build one day?”

It was then that she noticed the sudden draft entering the bar. The source was a winged humanoid creature of some kind. A creature that did not seem at all related to the girl with the domesticated beast. What to make of this creature, the Reader wondered... Or rather, she would wonder. Right now, there was a fortune to be read. The Reader wanted to listen. She would catalogue later.

A portal appeared somewhere on the planet of Niihama. From it, emerged a young alchemist, the portal quickly closing behind him once he crossed. His name was Lukas, and he had urgent matters to take care of. To aid in this endeavor, he had called upon the help of someone powerful. They had agreed to meet here, and it seemed like Lukas got there first.

Immediately, the Terran human responded negatively to the atmosphere. He expected as much, and drew a bright blue vial from his pocket. He drank the little brew, and felt a strong rush as the brew enhanced his respiration, and removed the strain from his breath. Now comfy, he ran his hands over the payment they had discussed beforehand. He was lucky to scrounge up what he could; but once he was done, his money problems would be over.

He remembered the little beacon he had granted her when they were negotiating. He promptly activated his; wouldn't want to risk her getting lost in this now harsh planet. With this, she'd be noticed of his location; Lukas hoped that she'd come soon; he wanted to waste no time.

A tear between space emerged as purple void energy emerged and rippled. The long-distance portal spread open like a blob of flour and water under a wooden roller. The helmet-clad Reader of the Ancient Tomes jumped through, and nearly botched the landing. Her quick spell of stumbling implied that the portal magic took quite a number from her personal energy reserves. The Reader planted both hands on her knees as she recuperated.

“Jeez,” she gasped, “I really need to practice that more.” She rarely had to use portals. Even when she did, she never had to tear holes in the void for such immense distances.

Her gasping was only slightly strained by the planet’s different atmosphere. Her black helmet had a respirator within, which allowed her to survive in more nasty conditions for significantly longer than she would otherwise. Thankfully, the atmosphere of the planet did not seem to negatively affect her beyond the icky taste of the air. She didn’t dare take off her helmet to see how much worse it tasted. That was a bit of knowledge she could live without.

Shortly after her arrival on the planet she had never visited, her beacon tracker lit up. With one last breath, she regained composure and produced the tracker from her belt. Lukas, the one who had hired her for her assistance, had arrived and activated his beacon. It was set to a specific frequency, complete with encryption to avoid the wrong types finding the beacon. For the Reader, it was her current objective.

She stepped off to meet up with the Terran human. A minute later, she would have arrived from around one of the larger rocks in the area.

“Lukas,” the Reader greeted, “This planet tastes awful.”

"I know. But this does not matter." Lukas wished to make this quick, for his sake and hers. "This way. I've set up what I could." He led her to a small cave, not far. Inside, there was a small shrine, where the ritual would take place.

Lukas began explaining as he took some final items from his backpack: "What I need you to assist me with, Oracle, is to keep me alive during this endeavor. I am about to do something very dangerous, and I require your magic to sustain me if things go awry." He took a bottle of holy water, and dumped it on the grave; lit a few candles, and saw the grave glow as he continued: "I wish to say no more. Everything else shall be known once it becomes relevant."

From the shrine rose an angel, shining with a light so bright it illuminated the cave, majestic white wings, a quartz blade very well hidden in his robes. Lukas allowed it to rise, and finally declared: "I'm sorry to do this, but for the greater good, I must kill you." He drew his Terran staff, a wooden pole of the finest quality, stronger than steel. He readied himself, and then charged forward with a strong lunge.

His first strike aimed for the angel's head; the spirit managed to parry with his beautiful weapon; a gleaming beacon of power, capable of slaying great evil. He then found himself in a heated duel; thrusting, parrying, deflecting, and dodging the angel's flurry of attacks, trying to get his hits in as well. As he tired, he yelled to his hire: "Now's a great time to jump in!"

Purple energy rippled from beneath the Reader’s robes. The glowing mist-like energy swirled around her gloves to form hard light plating. Her hands were encased in hard light gauntlets. These were her primary form of dishing out pain, and were supplemented by many more long-ranged abilities using the same kind of energy.

The Reader’s boots surged with a blast of purple mist as she propelled toward the fray at a shockingly fast speed. At least, it was shockingly fast for a humanoid’s initial acceleration for bursting into a sprint. With one arm set to block and the other stretched into a solid punch, the Reader closed the distance between herself and the winged… thing… with the white crystalline blade. Her thin, lightweight boots tapped the ground as she maintained her speed. If the angel turned out to be distracted or too slow to move his sword to parry, the punch would strike at the angel’s shoulder, for the Reader hoped to dislocate it. Otherwise, her defensive hand would be set to protect her in the event of a parry.

(My internet died, which is why I took so long to answer to this :/)

Lukas jumped out of the way from the Reader's path, watching her cripple the angelic creature in an impressive single punch. The spirit dropped its blade; perfect for Lukas to finish the job. Making use of the opening his hire gave him, he lunged at the winged man with his staff... and thrust it straight through his throat. He stared at the angel, watching it choke on its blood as the life slowly left his body. Not wanting to let it suffer, he ran a full circle around him, staff still lodged in his throat, and tore its head off. The body fell limp, its neck spurting blood for some time.

Lukas remained quiet for some time; he felt it was appropriate, and then promptly threw the Reader her pay; 12 thousand Terran credits, in silver. He said nothing as he tore the angel's wings off (for this is what he wanted), and remained silent as he opened a portal with one of his expertly crafted reagents. Before stepping through, he simply uttered "Thank you." He then passed over, the opening closing behind him, leaving no trace.

A burst of displaced air preceded a sharp crackle of sound. The sound erupted rather late, compared to the sudden appearance of a glowing purple ball, dispensing suspended brain cell-like sparks within a small radius. From the orb, the robed figure of a very fit woman hopped out, as if dropping half a metre from a rather high step.

The orb, as well as the “brain cells”, vanished with an ethereal VORP, as the fully concealed figure got a good look at the destination she had just arrived in.

The ocean thundered against the nearby cliffside during the high tide, but still had several long decades before the thumping could possibly cause any more damage to the cracked, yet study cliffs. This area was well away from the extreme cold or the extreme heat.

The Scholar arrived here to study samples of the farmland, to bolster the knowledge she had recently gained on soil types- a sub-sub-sub-section in her mind within the massive store of knowledge she had already gathered on agriculture. She dropped into a low crouch as she peered at the grass along the cliff edges. It was there that she got a good look at the layering of dirt types in the area.

As if on cue a woman dressed in what amounted as rags and a cowl over her head appeared, she appeared wary as if she had been through a great deal, her eyes measured but judgemental. As she approached the figure she looked them over, her eyes travelling all over the female's body before finally drawing closer, the mistrust plain in her features, "I don't see a ship or any boat, so how the hell did you get here? Be quick, we ain't got time to gossip about time of day." as if speaking to herself she turned away, "It's been almost two years and no boats come here, not a little off from the beach you will find what was left of our ship." heading further up to the beach a lot of rusted metal cladding and littered the white sands, while she appeared malnourished with her bones being seen, nonetheless she could walk, "Not many of us survived or if we did then they ended up elsewhere, this island perfectly suitable, but without means to get away we salvaged what little from the crashed ship and built up some sort of an enclave. Of course I am not taking you there, although the Island is huge almost continent size, but nothing been found in our journies, we can't stray too far."

Pausing she looked at her, "The name is Krisanda, at least that was how it used to be, names don't really matter anymore. Well anyway, we're far enough up the beach." she had speaking as she had headed further up, they were now at what appeared to be a rusted hull of some old ship, she sat down on some panelling sticking up inside the sand and stared at the woman, "Welcome to Ebouma, in butt-fuck nowhere."

A stranger in tattered robes seemed to appear like some sort of previously hidden sentry. The Scholar gazed back at the woman, seemingly emotionless, as her head was entirely covered in the detailed, pitch-black helmet.

This continent on Terra was called… Ebouma. This individual, Krisandra. The Scholar commited these tidbits, as well as the observations she had gleaned, to her perfect, encyclopedic memory- a gift and a curse from the Ancient Tomes.

Names don’t really matter, eh?

“That makes two of us,” she replied as politely as she could. Frankly, she didn’t even remember her own name. She followed the stranger, seeing no reason to not trust this individual. She looked hardened. Though the Scholar was quite powerful, she imagined this stranger would be a keen warrior if provoked.

“Butt-fuck nowhere,” was immediately deemed an unnecessary observation- though would be suitable as an example in her studies in comedy. It was a funny thing to hear, especially juxtaposed to the gloomy, rusting monument the two robed figures approached.

“I would not say this is nowhere,” the Scholar quipped almost computer-like, as was another side-effect to her blessing and curse. “The soil here is incredibly valuable for agricultural purposes.”

Blinking at her half in annoyance and pure apathy she rolled her eyes, "Perhaps, but this is no life for a former pirate, well to be fair was not one for long. See I used to be far more well contending, passionate, but years rolling on just completely destroyed what I had. Perhaps if I could sail those waves again I would find the spirit that was stolen by this exile. Whatever the case, you seem educated and with so few here, someone like you whether a hullucination brought on by starvation and heat or real, don't really matter, I not had much time to speak... so I will..."

With that still sat down she began, "I am what you may call a Water Mage, I can tame the elements and cause great horrific storms with no problem whatsoever. When in the water on a boat if I did not remain calm, the water would match my moods. I could make it a weapon, a dangerous force or use it in ways unimaginable. This caught the attention early on in life, I was deemed a hazard too dangerous to exist. They locked me up in some facility called The RIP and until I was freed by some like-minded folk, I never saw anything but those walls. In fact my powers I could have escaped, but it was not until I met those folks, I found passion, I found joy. Am I going too fast, or should I keep going, not much to say. I guess I could go further back." she shrugged, in truth she had no idea how she had gotten these powers, she just always assumed she had them, end of.

“I read a book, and it made me strong,” The Scholar simply replied, in a fashion that contrasted sharply with the relatively longer life story the Water Mage delivered. Returning to the previous subject, she added, “Still, water is a central ingredient for agriculture. I’m sure with the seeds of some edible plants, we can produce a suitable source of sustenance for daily living on this island. I wonder why the Terran government had neglected to utilize this area’s resources. Seems like a waste…”

The Reader of the Ancient Tomes pondered silently as she stared seemingly into blank space. Her gaze shifted back to the washed-up dilapidated ship. “I’m sure this vessel can float once again, but it would require more suitable construction conditions and lots of replacement parts.” Her mind raced with possible uses for the ship. Reclaiming lost treasures at the bottom of the ocean, using the boat as a mobile command centre was the main idea she had. Frankly, she had no idea what this Krisandra person did before.

In order to get such a workshop built, and materials gathered, the Scholar knew she would need more hands than just the two ladies loitering outside the husk. “Are there more people around here?” the Scholar queried.

"I'd know tha' whingin' anywhere lemme see here," Linus muttered to himself as he came over a beachey berth. It had been what, years? Still, he'd know it anywhere he heard it. Especially near water.

Farther down the landscape two figures stood. Linus, up on a hill silhouetted by the back-lit sun, watched whatever conversation it was they were having. Not like he could hear words. Just that familiar voice.

"THE HELL'NRYA DOIN', YA?" Linus shouted down the beach, waving both arms in abandon.