It might have been magic, Msonus know, incredibly powerful private magic capable of shutting down his most immediate tool; or perhaps the wards were created with Msonus in mind.

They soon came up the stairs, into the light of the temple-palace. Msonus saw the ebauty of the place; its immediate hanging gardens filling every wall, the sculptures, the perfect slate floors, the bubbling fountains. There was a soldier, guarding the entrance to the pits. The jailer nodded to him.

"All hell's well," said the jailer. "Nothing yet."

"Good," said the jailer. "Taking this one to old One-Eye."

Msonus is intrigued by the familiarity of the words he hears, but can't let it show yet. He follows the path of the story as it is put before him, moving with the jailer even as he wonders where exactly he was.

So much tension present... it was almost unbearable, but Msonus resists the temptation to act. He closes two of his eyes, using just one eye as he is led to One-eye. He smiles to himself at his little joke, but it is largely irrelevant.

Old One-Eye was a stooped, bitter man, his cheeks lashed with tears and his hair untamed. He wore no eye patch, only a single crooked scar, and his robes and hat were of a gloomy grey. In his right hand was a single stave, cackling with magic of a destructive bent, and at his right was a single blade.

Msonus soon realized that Old Old-Eye wasn't wielding the blade; on the contrary, it was caught in the ground, and while the leader clasped it protectively Msonus's keen eyes saw that every muscle on the God was intent on not moving the sword in any particular direction.

So this was the Blade of End World.

Old One-Eye smiled and it was crooked like scars and bitter lovers.

The jailer smiled, bowed, took himself to the back of the room.

"Osiris-Ra," rasped the old man. "Msonus, tell me about Osiris-Ra."

Msonus stares for a brief time at this man, a figure in grey like no other he had ever seen. This was a figure not mentioned in the history books... or was it? Msonus was yet ignorant of the past he stood in, and knowing this his curiosity is only heightened. But the blade... the Mystic shivers with the sight of it, knowing this was what he wanted to know, and yet also knowing that it was not here to be taken. To remove the blade would be to remove pages from history, broken or not... and such deadly pages are not easily moved.

As he thinks these wandering thoughts, Msonus begins to speak:

"I have three eyes, and you, one, and yet... I can see not that which you wish if it is not there to be seen.
  Osiris-Ra, lord of manies, the divinity of two-and-more, foe of death and Dreaded Lord. The titles flow like water, do they not? There is some irony in that, with the master of Sands. Put forth your queries, O holder of such a precipitous blade, and the answers will come if they are to be had.

Unless, you simply wish to hear talking? A trivial pursuit for one so  carefully entrenched, but then, I suppose nothing can be trivial to you, for the exact same reasons. Do I wander too much?"

"Perhaps," laughed Old One-Eye. "Perhaps. I know one thing, however," he said, his expression turning grim, "and that is this - you are not the Msonus I once knew. Not the Msonus who fought with me against the Horde upon the branches of the World-Tree. My magical sources verify that, yes, you are Msonus, in true fact," he huffed, "and yet you appeared one day after my dear friend left us in search of the Scepter of Osiris-Ra. Your lack of knowledge regarding the Dread Lord verifies that you are not, indeed, the same being.."

He stopped, his one eye twitched.

"So who, by the Sword, are you?"

"Ah, when the pretenses are dropped it is easier. Or more difficult, but I assume if you knew me than you know that."

Msonus pauses. He does not worry about paradoxes of causality or time continuums. He does worry about some matters of his own.

"I am Msonus, yes, and I am not your Msonus, no. Aren't facts silly? For that Msonus is who I was, and this Msonus is who he will be. Somewhat. We are the same and not; it is how the tree works, I suppose. And I'm afraid memories are hard to hold on to. Well, if you are a friend of the me that you are a friend of, then you shall understand that not everything is to be said. Not everything to be understood. And yet, if I am to learn as I wish to learn, you too must learn some then. What I tell you should be kept secret, for the fewer that know, the more comfortable it shall be for the future. Or the past? Perhaps. "

He laughs.

"Who am I? Why am I here? The questions you want to ask are not the useful ones - not wrong, simply not right.

Allow me to rephrase. When am I? Why am I now?  And perhaps they are not all for me to answer. But perhaps they are. Whence I have come is whither you go. Seeking that which fell into the river long ago, I swim backwards... and find myself sopping wet. And if I have given answers, then perhaps you will have given some of your own."

"You are in the Chambers of Odin the Just," growled Old One-Eye. "And you are talking to he who they were named after. Zeus has just been taken, the Mad have been held back, and Osiris-Ra plans on taking the Valley Divine. It is an age of strife. My government is crumbling before my very eyes, and yet I must defend this sacred place from the invasion. This here is the Sword of End World. It has been at my side since the death of Ayar."

His mouth curled in a scowl, his remaining eye as twisted as the scar.

"Now, you'll answer my questions," he said. "How far are you ahead, sorcerer? From whence do you come?"

"You know, I met a raven once. He was pecking amongst the ruins, ruins of a me gone, awaiting the return of a master long gone. A name I had not heard, but for children of different times this is no rare fate. Muninn? Perhaps. In my time there are many ruins, I suppose. Many things long gone. How far ahead? Quite, I should suppose.  The few history books do not speak much of this time. You have a hard history, friend. I suppose I should thank you for my life, my past... or current, now... one at least.

Ah but your name, that simple word, Odin. How frequently we hear it! The laws they bear your name, order and power yes, but bureaucracy and paternalism too. Perhaps it is better than this? Perhaps not? I do not dabble in politics, as you will know. Although the workings of government are mystic enough, they are not for creatures such as me, I'm afraid.


As for the Sword of End world... I know the blade well enough. It is a mighty thing, and, seeking to know of its past to know its present, the reason I come here... The last age where it seems to have been known properly. Yet, it is still whole. How intriguing. And Ayar has died? By Crailek's hand or the blades? Is this even something you should be knowing? "

Here was a contradiction with that which he had known: if his vision was correct, when Ayar has died, the sword would be broken. It could either have been reforged, or this was not yet the events which he had seen. Msonus shakes his head.

"So you know of me now. Somewhat, at the least. "

"Glad to see I've made an impression," said Odin, who then promptly disappeared.

There was a vacuum, the sensation of all time and space - all matter and seconds and light and energy and minutes and sounds and hours and all all all - being ripped downwards, upwards, beyond and afar, to places where Msonus could not, did not, would never exist. A blackness, darker then the Void - for what is the absence of nothing? No thing, perhaps, and and and and

and an aeon passes, an eternity, and reality reforms, reshapes, the shadow returns.

Msonus is standing now, tears down his cheeks, in the temple of Egyptian architecture and of sand and gold. A thousand incense burners surround him, the floor is but dust, and surrounding the massive throne is gold, artifacts from a thousand places, further treasures and one: the Sword of End World.

The emperor that sits before Msonus had both of his eyes, and a face that was beautiful enough to make widows weep with joy, horribly marred by a savage scar running across his neck to his left, golden eye. His lips were perfect, his features entirely classical, and he was dressed in simple robes of gold, a single shining scepter, made of a similar colour, in his hands.

There was the jailer behind him, looking almost identical.

"Glad to see I've made an impression," said the figure. His face looked familiar, somehow. "It is good to see that even so far into the future they know the name of Ra the Just."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:35, Mon 03 May 2010.

Msonus is shaken by the sudden shift, but the repeated line seems to give some sort of a continuation. Trying to resume the conversation as if it were always this way, he says, "Indeed, one so influential can not help but leave a mark throughout history. But I'm afraid only the truly large parts of history remained, and so I would be grateful if you could help me orient myself in this past?"

"Of course, yes, the past," said Ra the splendorous, the mighty, the magnificent, smiling crookedly. Msonus felt that he was an intensely likable, deeply beautiful, man. The Pharaoh of Pharaohs. The scar had been carved upon his face with a hatred, Msonus saw, the kind of destructive, scarifying hate that could ruin most men. A metaphysical, entirely personal struggle had been won. "It is thirteen years since the Fall of Odin and of the War of Thunders. The Temple Divine now spans most the original, shattered Valley, and we've finally been able to shift away from rebuilding.. towards the future.."

He stopped, smiled. Perhaps Msonus was shocked. Perhaps not. The King of Kings handled the Scepter softly, its glimmering gold shining across the room.

"Osiris of the Scarab has finally brought the war back upon the Madness, the filth, at the bottom of Yggdrasil. We've toppled the so-called 'Great' City of Alkan, bringing upon the Hanging Oasis of Surah Hal'Amunl. The sorcerers, of course, were complicit with the Madness, with the wicked Black Pharaoh, since the earliest ages.. and we've replaced their magico-machinery with powerful filtering systems of our own. The genocide of Yggdrasil's greatest race of magicians was a necessary thing, to fully purge the taint.. those that we couldn't fully kill have been encased within the Tower of Tombs, held within the blasted place of traitor Metatron, designed by Anik of the Hammer in conjunction with Foun of the Compass."

Ra smiled, now, his eyes alight with the flame of the victorious.

"Does that shed enough light on when about your astral image has found itself, friend Msonus? I must admit to feeling some shock at seeing you here, brought about from the future, but my heka augurs claim the truth of your image. You've been dead, you see. For almost fourteen years. I am.. sorry about that."

"Incredible...
I see..." Msonus says. He pauses, taking in the strange new history he was learning. He didn't even know much of his own timeline (to say that any one was more real than the next would seem rather presumptuous)

 "Do I say I am sorry for my loss? Am I to know the circumstances of my death?"

He pauses, adding an unrelated question as an afterthought, though his voice makes it sound like it is urgent.  "And the filtering systems on Alkan? The flow of magic is held normal? "

Ra casually ignored Msonus's question regarding his own death, instead elaborating upon the Floods of this strange age.

"When it was known that the Sorcerers of Alkan were in league with the foulest of Yggdrasil's enemies, the Mad, action had to be taken. Our own heka sorcerers, adept in the manipulation of others, convinced the Alkanites that Kthluhu himself would siege Alkan. They panicked at this, for reasons they thought obscure. It was easy to convince them to form a warding chain upon Alkan, and even easier to strike them down physically once they were caught in this chain."

He grinned.

"Their bodies still hang upon the Ruins of Alkan as a sign to any who might side with the Black Pharaoh, and the stubborn sorcery within their mortal coils acted as a buffer against the Floods when the 'Great'," he spat the word, "Machinery of the Shrine of Wonders shut down. We then utilised our brightest sorcerer, Surah Hal'Amun, and he, along with our other magic-folk, spent forty days and forty nights designing and building the Hanging Oasis of Surah, to stand about the Courtyard and filter all magic that came through. It has been a resounding success, and the natural dangers of the Oasis itself act as a defence against those who would seek to rebuild Alkan. It also doubles as a place of rest for our loyal men, those who have taken the Solemn Invocation, and are thus recognised by the place, hanging as it does unto the Void."

Msonus is intrigued by how the changes were so vast, seemingly all coming from a single point of difference. It was, he supposed a large point. Nonetheless, this was not the timeline he had sought before, and so it seemed rather pointless to continue to seek the same information he had sought before. Still, existence is existence. He nods to himself for a moment, as if having a discussion.

Then: "If I may be frank lord... May I study under them? If you knew me, or if you did not, I am a student of as much as I can learn of mystic ways; the ruins at Alkan are again in need of bolstering in our time... perhaps this is why I have been directed to this exact moment. Perhaps it is the greatness of this time that can help with the future?"

"Perhaps," nodded Ra, pensive. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it is I that should be studying from you. You are not the Msonus I knew - not even close. My understanding of the nature of time is a little, yes, skewed, you might say, but.. I am no fool. I believe I understand what has occured. You originate from a fictional reality, yes? What was the divergence point?"

He smiled.

"Perhaps we can help each other."

"I suppose that Lord would have a better understanding of the situation than an interloper. Yes, my reality is not particularly similar to yours, though I never did intend to slip between realities. Ah but accidents are fun, and teach. The divergence point... I am no student of history, yours or mine, but the differences are great enough that it was clearly some time ago.

You see, Lord, the divergence point....

is you. " Msonus says, putting a dramatic flourish on the reveal.

"Or something related to you, I suppose. It could really be anything. But yes, your presence here is by far the greatest of differences. I suppose if one thinks about it too much it is maddening. Not in the Madness sense, though. Madness is a constant more than madness ever was. I wander too far again, I fear.

Well then, may we aid each other yet?"

"I think we might," said Ra, smiling. "I dare not hold you captive for long, or kill you - I care not for what that could do for the time stream, or for what secrets the journeyman in time keeps. We shall work together for as long as you stay, then. Information for information, perhaps? What would you care to know, exactly?"

Msonus decides to go for it, smiling and speaking with this strange reality's version of Ra:

"We should start with my curiosity, for I fear I will learn nothing if I cannot satisfy it. And certainly teaching is a favorite pastime, and so the trade will be delightful.

What is your heka sorcery? "

"Ah, yes," said Ra. "When One-Eye the Betrayer, thrice spat his name, climbed atop of Yggdrasil, declared himself her chosen child, and then was hanged for his efforts.. returning, alive, with those terrible runes.. the bastard and I both knew it was the weapon he and the Thunder God needed to win our feud. It'd reached heights, then," said Ra, sadly, "And we were involving the entire Realm Supernatural in our conflict. It would have torn the World apart, but if one of us backed down, showed weakness.."

Ra grinned.

"It was an arms race, then. I stole the Alkanite's Chapter of Mandu, but it wasn't enough. Thor enslaved the Legion of Legions, and I knew my time was dwindling. At that point, however, Osiris had completed his Forge of the Last Apophis, and my own Scepter of Ra," he raised the gold scepter, familiar and yet so alien, inscribed with strange symbols that shifted like snakes in the sand, "Was transmuted, transformed into the Scepter of Apophis, for that was the purpose of my sacrifice.. all along. To make the Scepter of Ra so that it could be a vessel for Apophis.. but I digress. The Mad, at that point, had reached the Realm of Anvils, and had taken the pathetic spider-folk there prisoner. Luckily - very luckily for us - the Thunder God had based his operations in those wicked climbs, attempting to harness whatever strange technologies the spider-folk held, and so when I completed the Arrival of the Snake it killed the Thunder God and returned the spider-folk to another dark age.

"The Mad upon that world, of course, were finished also."

Ra tapped his scepter on the ground impatiently.

"With the Thunder God dead the One-Eyed Bastard had one last gambit. He'd uncovered something - a golden moon-fortress, practically impossible to destroy and filled with some unidentifiable energy - and had it manned by the Alkanites to wage war upon my fortress. That was a battle that lasted a year and a half, but was finally won when I, personally, left my troops in secret and went on pilgrimage to the World-Dragon. We were being sorely beaten and the World-Dragon was, I felt, our last chance. There.. I fought the World-Dragon for seven nights, but upon showing him the splendor of Apophis it bowed to me and offered me a new source of power: the source of heka. Drawn directly from the Dragon itself, aligned against Apophis-currents.. it could not be dispelled, destroyed, defeated. We bound most of the Alkanites, took the golden moon, but before I could crack open it's outer chambers to study what strange force was inside it disappeared. Vanished. One-Eyed bastard wasn't found, either, so.."

Ra sighed.

"We'll find him. One day. Now tell me, Msonus. You come from the future. Tell me of.. tell me of Sura and of Osiris."

"I must remind you, that I come from a future, but not the future. This one is different than my own in ways so great, that my words will be only as a fiction story to you. But then, I suppose yours are the same to me. The conflicts of these two pairs, though, seem the defining events in either ase. The outcomes.. the processes... those are the heart of the difference.

The World-tree," Msonus says, speaking carefully, but drifting just as often into his own thoughts. "has seen fit to bring a new Sura into birth. But I know little of him personally: he is an outlaw of the government that has hold in my existence. Still, it is my understanding that he is quite the powerful figure. It seems a fitting parallel to the Sura you describe here. But again the differences bring us back to you and Osiris, don't they.

As for Osiris, that story is the same as the story of Ra. In a future I come from, you and Osiris are not separate, but one. I am, I say again, no student of history, but this much is no recent event. That I see you here is an interesting event in and of itself. Dead, but not truly dead. Perhaps death is no longer a word that can apply to Osiris-Ra, not in the traditional senses.  Powerful, certainly... but so very different from what I see here.  Changes are funny things, aren't they. A butterfly here, a glance there... and suddenly the world is a different place. Things grow, I suppose. But my how the water ripples. "

"Yes, oh how the water ripples," said Ra, obviously a little frustrated at the vagueness - and yet thirsty for more information. He tapped his rod once, and then twice, and a servant came dashing out of the corners.

"Are you hungry, Msonus? Thirsty?"

"No needs of that sort, thank you," Msonus says, shaking his head. He waits a moment, looking over the servant. "Water, if you must."

Then he looks back at the Lord.  "But I think upon what you have said, and it appears there is more and more that is to be learned.

When you say World-Dragon... is that to say that is your equivalent to our World-Tree? "

Upon receiving an answer, either way, Msonus immediately asks, "And may I ask another favor? A projection, if you will allow it? It is harmless, but perhaps personal."

OOC: Edited for Water immediately after posting.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:46, Sun 06 June 2010.

"A projection? A favour?" said Ra, his eyebrows raised. "Perhaps. Ask away, traveler, and perhaps I can help you. We are, after all," he said. "Friends"

The servant brought a pitcher filled with ice water and a single, crystal glass.

"By World-Dragon I mean the Dragon Naddhagr, He Who Chews At The Roots, the Destroyer.." said Ra. "Apophis is his invisible, unheard of and yet incredibly real lover. She is the destroyer of the intangible and she is our patron and guide. It was by her assistance that I managed to destroy my enemies."

"Gratitude." Msonus pours the water until the glass is just over half full. He takes a sip, and it is half empty.

 "Projection. It is.. a simple tool I have to make speaking easier. Words are hard. For me, at least. You have a way, I am afraid, I will never quite grasp. Words, they were never my gift. I wander again, though.

Think of that which you will show, for me, " Msonus says. He looks into Ra's eyes. "Embrace the moment. "

"I apologise," said Ra. "But I cannot allow my thoughts to become so... open. They are secret things, and they work through secret channels. You understand."