Berd has been here before.

Vast structures of ice.  Near unendurable heat.  Archons moving about, passing through spaces which are divided from the drake by walls which are as thin as the gossamer threads of an orb web, and sumultaneously as massive as entire worlds.  Berd is in the specific place and time which had been called the War Room.  It is empty now, the shattered remnants of the crystal columns are gone.  No trace of them, or the attack which laid waste to them, remains.  Nothing.

There is, however, a sort of residual psychic echo of something else.

Seven hundred and forty three Archons have died in this room.  Recently, and painfully.  Berd's mind is filled with their cries.  One word seems to be repeated in every one of those echoes...

Harbonah.

Whorls in the fabric of the universe meld with those from nearby worlds.  Concepts such as space and time are non-constant and, to some extent, overlapping.  Berd uses the confusing geometry of reality's peaks and valleys, coupled with his own cloak, to render his very presence unseen while he hunts for the controls to this world.  In order to prompt Harbonah to listen, he will first need to produce a mailed glove.  A big one, he suspects.

And, of course, not refer to the Archon as 'Harry'.

The echoes of the death-agonies sicken him.  For the sake of everyone, even the Archons, Harbonah must be stopped.  Whether that be through words or action remains to be seen.  As does Berd's capacity to affect such a result.

The drake forges multiple pinprick tunnels to the underflow, to provide both energy and escape, should it become necessary.  One of his minds keeps a close eye upon the wyrmholes.  Another head of the hydra slowly usurps what control it can over the twisted reality of this world.  Others prepare Berd's strongest defenses, mirror-bright shields of mind, body, and spirit, psychic decoys, a cyclotron of preternatural energies slowly revving up within his tiny body. Yet more silently, stealthy search the world itself, hunting for forces, devices, creations of interest.

He finds a perch upon which to sit - something inoffensive, but solid.  It creates the proper message.

And Berd waits to see how solidly he may lay his will upon this many-folded world.

Time, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, passes.

Shapes emerge from the walls around Berd, or rise from the floor.  All of them composed of ice.  Some are simple geometric forms, shifting through various iterations - point, line, square, cube, tesseract, penteract - before crumbling away.  Others are more complex - a tower, inclined at an angle of precisely 3.97°, a tree whose leaves sprout, expand, and fall, spinning to the floor.  A rabbit...

Finally a woman appears, stepping out from behind the tree.  She holds a harp, and she vanishes almost instantly, falling as a shower of ice crystals.  As the crystals fall they seem to whisper a single word, "Bird!"...

One thing becomes clear.  Berd has some limited control over this domain.  The more complexity and control is required, the more difficult it is for the forms to maintain themselves.  He will not be entirely helpless here though.  Wherever "here" is.

A new shape appears in the room.  A wheel of lightning.  This time it is close enough to perceive Berd, and slides through the last few layers until it matches locations exactly...

+ WHY ARE YOU HERE? +

His experimentation finished, his routes of egress planned, prepared, and perceived by at least one of the hydra-mind, Berd considers his next move - making contact.  There are nearly as many as there are worlds (though not here; this place lies outside, within the Underflow itself), but as he considers, he finds it difficult to pin down the best possible route.

How does one approach a creature like Harbonah?

Events, as often they do, spiral away from him as he ruminates, and discovery occurs without prompting.  One of the herenethi...interesting.  The danioti have their purpose, the eshuranti their own, fiery personality...but what of the herenethi?  Thus far, Berd has only spoken with one of theirs of the Nephillim.

He focuses, ensuring a strong front.  It would not do to appear a foolish beast, not now.  His mind remains cloaked, hidden behind curtains of darkness and mirror-bright walls.  And his eyes burn like stars.

Greetings, Archon of the herenethi.  I am Berd.  I seek discourse.  Debate.  And perhaps understanding.

+ I AM RAZIEL. +, replies the herenethi, and then Berd's words register, + YOU ARE THE DESPISED ONE? +, the Archon asks, sparks leaping from it to the floor, and to the walls around it.  + I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE LARGER. +

+ NO MATTER.  HARBONAH WILL REWARD ME FOR DISCOVERING YOU HERE, IN THE FORTRESS.  YOU ARE FOOLISH TO COME HERE.  THIS IS HARBONAH'S STRONGHOLD, AND YOU WILL NOT BE PERMITTED TO LEAVE. +

I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Raziel.  He knew a Raziel, once.  Nothing like this one, of course.  Berd listens politely, dipping his head at his 'naming'.  I have been so called, he admits.

I am not here with the intention of leaving, Berd notes.  All the while, one of the hydra probes 'about' the creature, searching to see if it attempts to make contact of others...and if so, whether said contact would be blocked.  Of course, while you have discovered me, you do not know my true intentions, he continues.  But by all means, summon Harbonah hastily.  A deliberate choice of words.

Call him here, and never know why.  Berd's eyes sparkle, and he raises his head.  Or perhaps Harbonah will disseminate the information once he gleans it from me?  Is this not his way, to share information freely?

The Archon says nothing for a few moments, as electric serpents of green lightning writhe across its form.  Finally, though, it does speak, + TELL ME WHY YOU ARE HERE, AND I WILL DECIDE WHETHER, OR NOT, YOU ARE WORTHY OF HARBONAH'S ATTENTION. +

Raziel moves a little nearer, and shrinks somewhat.  + FOR THE MOMENT, THOUGH, YOU DO HAVE MY ATTENTION.  WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE?  IS IT THAT YOU WISH TO JOIN FORCES WITH HARBONAH?  OR WILL YOU REQUEST MERCY, WHETHER FOR YORSELF, OR FOR YOUR MINIONS?  HAVE YOU, PERHAPS, BECOME INSANE, AND BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN ASSAULT HARBONAH, HERE, IN A PLACE OF POWER? +

Berd, perched on the crystal outcropping, rears his head back, an amused smile dancing on his narrow-snouted features.  I thank you, Raziel.  Calm discourse is in short supply these days, I find.

Join Harbonah?  No.  The drake grows more serious.  Neither do I come to assault him - were that the case, I would have arrived in a different fashion.  As for mercy?  The little dragon cocks an eyeridge.  I think we can both agree that requesting that particular gift from Harbonah would be fruitless.

No, I come to speak of this war.  Of its costs.  To seek...a bridge, perhaps, between myself and Harbonah.  Or, perhaps, between myself and other archons - Harbonah's people, so to speak.  The Seraphim.  His eyes burn as he leans foward, but without threat.

I seek understanding.

I do not search for your strategies, your secrets.  I only wonder why.  Why do you overturn the Myriad Worlds?  Why do you grind millions of creatures beneath blade, flame, and lightning?  Why do you fight?

Raziel's answer is, perhaps, only to be expected.  + BECAUSE WE CAN. +

The Archon falls silent, and for a few moments it seems that it will say no more.

Finally, it decides that saying a little more might be reasonable, + AND... BECAUSE WE REQUIRE THESE WORLDS.  MOST ARE UNSUITED TO OUR NEEDS, BUT THEY CAN BE ADAPTED.  THEY BECOME BROOD WORLDS AND FORTRESSES. +

+ ONCE WE HAVE DESTROYED THAT WHICH HOLDS THEM IN SHAPE. +

Interesting.  Berd ponders for a long moment, considering the answer.  I thank you for your candor.  I have more questions, if I may?  You, of course, may ask in return.  I would not wish this to be an unfair exchange.  I would rather stick to considerations of reasons at the moment - I will not insult you by asking after your strategies.

More consideration follows.  Then,

Raziel, I find myself confused.  You say you destroy because you can.  Can you not also withhold destruction?  If so, why one and not the other?  There is no wheedling in Berd's question, no insinuation.  He merely seeks comprehension.  And, perhaps, for the creature to find a greater understanding within itself.

And once you have destroyed that which holds the Myriad Worlds in shape, all will collapse, he muses.  You will have your brood worlds, and your fortresses, indeed.

What then?

Then concern sparks in his mental voice.  And...against whom do these fortresses protect you?

+ THE FORTRESSES ARE BUILT FOR DEFENCE AGAINST OTHER FACTIONS, OR AGAINST OTHER CREATURES WHICH WOULD FIGHT US: YOU, YOUR MINIONS, OTHER, OLDER ENEMIES. +

Raziel starts to move, following a circular path.  It resembles nothing so much as a human pacing back and forth as he speaks.  + A FORTRESS ALSO REPRESENTS PRESTIGE AND STRENGTH.  IT IS A LOCATION WHERE A POWERFUL ARCHON CAN SUMMON UNDERLINGS, TO ISSUE ORDERS AND RECEIVE REPORTS.  THE CONSTRUCT REMINDS THOSE UNDERLINGS OF THEIR PLACE.  IT ALSO REMINDS RIVALS THAT THEY WOULD BE WISE NOT TO CHALLENGE THE ONE WHO DWELLS THERE. +

+ BROOD WORLDS PRODUCE MORE ARCHONS, WHICH IN TURN PROVIDE NEW FOLLOWERS FOR POWERFUL ARCHONS, AND RIVALS FOR WEAKER ONES.  EVENTUALLY WEAK ARCHONS ARE REPLACED BY STRONGER ONES.  IT IS THE WAY OF OUR KIND. +

The pacing stops, + YOU ASK WHY WE DESTROY...  WE DESTROY BECAUSE WE NEED TO ALTER THE WORLDS TO SUIT OUR NEEDS. +

+ WHY DID YOU DESTROY HOSK?  THE ARCHONS THERE WERE YOUNG, NEONATAL EVEN.  THEY HAD NOT YET SELECTED FACTIONS.  BY SMASHING THE WORLD, YOU CERTAINLY ROBBED YOURSELF OF ALLIES, AS WELL AS ENEMIES.  YOU ALSO PROVIDED MANY RECRUITS FOR THE SERAPHIM CAUSE.  HOSK HAS BECOME A RALLYING CRY FOR US. +

Understood, Raziel.  The fortresses are integral parts of your society.  They serve their purposes as gathering points, defensive structures, social facillitators.  They are your homes, then.  Your cities.

He falls silent, then, when the Archon speaks of Hosk.  For a long moment, he considers the proper course.  Then Berd releases strategem and manipulation, lets go his plans.  Raziel, it was not I who destroyed Hosk.  A renegade of my own faction took it upon himself to attack that world.  We sought to stop him, but failed.  The drake's eyes dim, their glittering slowing as he remembers their panicked attempts to halt Dorian's plot, his own lack of capacity to block the spell, Luke's failure and agonizing near-destruction.  It must have hurt your people terribly.  Understandable, how it galvanized them to battle.  A war of conquest became a war of survival.

He remembers waking in agony, fallen far from before.  Reaching out, seeking to recapture his strength from those who had taken it.  And a world dies screaming.

I truly regret.

I, too, have lost children in wars.  Many, many children.  He lapses into silence for several heartbeats.  Then, And it perpetuates.

A single glittering eye fixes on the Archon.  You say you require the worlds you destroy.  But what of the people upon them?  Do they not require them, as well?

+ INTERESTING.  WE TOO HAVE RENEGADES WHO TURN AGAINST THEIR OWN FACTIONS.  USUALLY TO FURTHER THEIR OWN CAUSES.  PRESUMABLY YOU DESTROYED THIS RENEGADE AS A WARNING TO OTHERS WHO MIGHT BE TEMPTED TO EMULATE SUCH REBELLION. +

The Archon stops "pacing", + YES, WE REQUIRE THESE WORLDS.  THE NEEDS OF THE LOWER CREATURES WHICH INHABIT THEM ARE NO MORE TO US THAN THE NEEDS OF A PLANT, OR OF A PEBBLE, ARE TO THOSE CREATURES. +

+ ARCHONS WILL CONQUER AND TRANSFORM THIS REALITY, AS THEY HAVE DONE TO OTHERS BEFORE IT.  THIS IS ORDAINED. +

'As they have done before'.  Worrisome, that.  Of course, they had to come from somewhere.  Were they not driven forth, they may very well have come to colonize.

The renegade acted out of madness and grief.  He has been...imprisoned by his own creation.  Hopefully, in time, he will find some measure of peace within himself, and possibly be safe to release.

You have renegades as well.  I have, of course, heard of the Nephillim.

He pauses to consider his next foray.  The creature makes a valid argument...were it not for a few, key issues.

These lower creatures, however, value plants and pebbles.  They need them to survive.  Were they to obliterate these things, they themselves would perish.  But you have no need for plants, pebbles, or people, do you?

The Nephillim would argue differently, I suspect.  But I do not speak to the Nephillim now, I speak to Raziel of the herenethi.

What if, Raziel, it could be determined that plants, pebbles, and people had value to you?  What then?

+ THEN I WOULD SEIZE THEM FOR MYSELF, AND HOLD THEM AGAINST ANY WHO WOULD TAKE THEM. +

The Archon suddenly seems to revolve faster, + STILL, YOU HAVE GIVEN ME USEFUL INFORMATION.  HUMANS REQUIRE PLANTS AND PEBBLES TO SURVIVE... DESTROYING THOSE MIGHT BE A MORE EFFICIENT METHOD OF ENDING ANY RESISTANCE FROM A WORLD'S INHABITANTS. +

I SHALL PRESENT THE IDEA TO HARBONAH.  PERHAPS I WILL BE GRANTED A REWARD. +

Another might curse their misstep.  Berd does not.  Every bit of information he bestows upon Raziel increases the archon's knowledge.  Knowledge that may, in some way, bring about a change in the creature's philosophy.  If it does not...well, knowledge that plants and stones are necessary to humans is almost certainly part of the Archon database by now.  After all, they did hold Cyan for some time, and foodstuffs would have been necessary.  Raziel might well find itself at a sharp end of a stick for wasting Harbonah's time.

Cyan....

Abruptly one of Berd's minds, still under the cloaking, peels away to investigate a nearby issue, it's concentration narrowed to a single, furious point.  The other minds await answers with barely leashed patience, returning to their own situation and work.

Indeed?  Well, I wish you the best of luck with your revelation to Harbonah.  Will you be leaving now, or shall we discuss further? Berd inquires, then continues as if the answer were the latter.

And what would you do, after seizing these things of value, Raziel?  What would you experience?  What joys would this bring you, what pain would this hold at bay?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:57, Mon 16 Mar 2009.

Raziel is silent for a short while, while electricity flares and pulses across across it.  Then, having considered its hypothetical options, + IN MY POSSESSION THEY WOULD BECOME A WEAPON.  WHOEVER HOLDS A THING CONTROLS THOSE WHO DEPEND ON THAT THING.  OR DESTROYS THEM. +

+ IF HUMANS NEED PLANTS AND PEBBLES, WHAT HAPPENS IF THEY ARE PREVENTED FROM HAVING THEM? +