The Underflow disgorges them into a new world and, at first it is as if their senses have failed them.

The world is all bright primary colours and flat geometric shapes - rows of purple triangles reveals themselves as being far further away than it first appeared, and with that revelation it becomes clear that they are, in fact, ranges of mountains.  Green rectangles, ellipses, and triangles become trees of some description.  The ground underfoot is level, like a well-kept lawn, but there is no variation in colour, just a constant monotonous green, dotted randomly with geometric trees, and small white mandalas which may be flowers.

A colourful bird sings in a nearby tree, and both of its eyes are on the same side of its head.

Worse yet, the travellers too have changed, blending in with the world of two dimensional shapes.  Faces are bright pink, clothing, like the world, exists in bright, simple colours.  The Archons appear to have become nothing more than plain hoops, their colours simply poor representations of their elemental natures: red for the eshurianti, brown for the danioti, pale blue for the herenethi, and pure white for sencathi, and their howls of dismay echo back from the mountain ranges.

One of the Archons sweeps around towards Cyan, a simple brown hoop, though marked with splashes of colour.  It hangs in the air before the more human travellers, + GENERA^L, WE H_AVE FO^{UND T}HE SE^RAPHIM. +  Right's voice seems strained, as if racked with something that resembles pain.

+ WE SHOULD ACT QU_ICKLY.  T^HI_S PLACE IS BARELY T_OLERAB^LE TO US. +

Cyan surveys James with a jaundiced eye as the group shifts into the world and the world shifts into them.  "Never mind revenge," she murmurs.  "I believe this tops anything I could have planned."  It doesn't concern her that she appears equally ridiculous - what matters is the image before her, one to treasure for as long as she lives.

Turning a full circle, Cyan studies the world about them with amazement and concern; of all the places she has journeyed, this might be one of the strangest.  But, no time to study it, for the Archons distress is obvious even before Right informs her of their plight.  "Hurry, then," she orders.  "Berd, if there is anything you can do...?"

On her shoulder, the drake cogitates furiously.  He can't change the world - it would be wrong - and it might prove difficult to 'bubble' all the archons in a more comfortable reality.  One of his minds reaches out, searching for the Seraphim and feeding what information he finds along the bridging.

"If you can bear us to this place, Right, in swift silence, then do so.  But if this world constrains you, Berd will manage," Cyan assures the Archon.  Sick at heart, she takes a final look at the bizarre, Picasso-esque landscape around her.  For all its alien nature, this is a quiet, peaceful place.  And now she brings war.

No.  I bring salvation, I hope.

Cyan draws her sword - in this world, a black bar in in her hand.  "Swift assessment, then battle!  We don't have time for anything else!"  the General cries, before turning to James and Banglen-Yp...all of her.  "I trust you have something else up your sleeve, James.  Banglen-Yp...I would like to keep this world's damage to a minimum, but I understand you need material with which to fight.  Hopefully you can take it from the enemy."  A smile quirks her lips beneath the General's dark eyes.  "Are both of you prepared?"

"Oh...wow!" James exclaims, reduced to near speechlessness by the oddity of the environment.  "I guess we're nearer the Courts.  What kind of place...it must somehow directly affect visual perception."

James can understand the Archons discomfort, he can feel a headache coming on as he struggles to come to terms with a two-dimensional world.

"I've something in mind, yes, but prepared?  I'm not sure.  I'll be putting my helmet on before we engage.  That'll probably cut me out of the link but Berd should still be able to track me, I hope."

 

• So •

º YOU º

‚uɐәɯ,‚

» this «

^i...

_...s

♥ N07 ♥

nor...

...MAL

The one and a few more than many Banglen-Yp-ish's spoke in one voice and a million, looking at herself and she.

 

The conditions in this bizarre world aren't just affecting the Archons.  Distances are hard to judge, sounds are flat and distorted, and the whole world seems to exert a not-so-subtle pressure somewhere just behind the eyes.

Berd reaches out an indeterminate distance, and feeds information to Right, showing him a location, who asserts that, yes, the Archons can take the whole group there.  + IT CAN B_{E DO}^NE.  IT W_ILL NO^{T B}E COMFORTABLE, BU_{T IT C}AN BE DONE. +

On command, several of the Archons swoop down and pick up members of the group.  Cyan, Berd, James, and three of the Banglen-Yps find themselves inside Right, watching through a window to the outside world as they hurtle along at breakneck speed just above the alien landscape.  The air inside the Archon is filled with a harsh shrieking and an unpleasantly nauseating vibration, quite unlike the usual calm conditions which prevail in the space within one of the wheels.

And then...

... they find themselves hurled out onto the strangely undetailed ground as Right dwindles behind them.  Ahead is an angular hill, and from beyond it come the voices of several more Archons.  Most of them seem to be in some discomfort.

"Berd should," Cyan hastens to assure James.  "But yes, the lack of a proper bridging...well, nothing to be done for it.  Your helmet is of far greater use keeping your head together than hanging at your belt."  Her smile turns to a grimace - odd upon her now twisted features - as she turns to Banglen-Yp.  "No, not normal at all...but glad am I to see it causes you no serious discomfort."

Not so the archons; her people suffer with every moment spent here.  There is a small advantage, though....

Then Right sweeps them away.  Cyan pauses in her ruminations a moment to consider Left's location.  She should ask...but not quite yet.  "A curious world indeed," she quietly notes to her companions.  "Twisting and turning us; I would come here for study, mind.  I suspect I might learn a great deal of specific styles of art."

On her shoulder, Berd sticks a thumb-like claw in his mouth and blows.  Hard.  For a moment his eyes bulge, then with a popping sound the flattened drake resumes his normal shape.  Or, rather, some facsimile of his normal shape.  Whether it be an illusion or not is open to conjecture.

Cyan doesn't even have time to shake her head at his vanity before Right deposits them - clumsily - to the flat, linear ground.  She catches herself before falling and drops into a crouch, Berd huddled precariously on her shoulder.  "Over the hill," she whispers.  "But how many?  What sort?  And...do they argue?  Berd - can you see?"

A single cloaked mind peels away, seeking a visual on the enemy.

The sensation of travelling inside an Archon can be exhilarating.  Not on this occasion, however.  The sickening vibration is bad; the eye-wrenching visuals, now amplified by Right's speed, are worse.  It is a relief to be thrown out again into the "normal" strangeness.

James manages a chuckle at Berd's trick.  It takes a fair degree of skill, and power, to overcome a world's "rules".  "Nice.  But I was thinking of trying the opposite.  Take something two-dimensional and turn it side on.  You can't see it, right?  And a blade so thin you can't even see it.  I'm thinking that's got to be sharp.  So I'm going to stand side on to a world, or try.  There's no point using my gun, anyway.  I've got no chance of judging distances."

James slings his gun across his back and tightens the strap so it won't bounce around.  He then dons his helmet and draws Fangmir.  Finally, he gives a fencer's salute to the assembled host (a side-on stance, as he promised) before turning towards the hill.

Berd is not quite his true shape, and sometimes, when he moves, he seems to flicker between something close to his usual form and something closer to his form in this world.  None of the garish shades which now colour his hide quite match his true pigments, and all lack their normal vibrancy.

Still he is close enough.  Then something strange happens... he seems to suddenly sprout a dozen extra necks, each of them bearing a head, but all of them seeming blurred and translucent.  One of the extra necks detaches and writhes away through the air like a swimming eel.  It grows more transparent as it moves away.  The remaining appendages blend and merge, until the drake has only a single  remaining head...

Nearby, James seems to be flickering in a fashion similar to Berd - with increasing frequency he seems to grow thinner and vanish unless viewed from precisely the right angle.

Until, suddenly the rapid changes stop, and he seems to become permanently invisible except from one precise angle.  At which point, even from that angle he becomes harder and harder to see.

An image blooms within the minds of those in the Bridging - only a few Archons here, all hard-at-work getting a hollow ready for the next cube, one assumes.  And not terribly enthusiastic about it, given the world itself.  It seems we are not the only ones discomfited, Cyan notes.

The bard's eyebrows rise yet again as James demonstrates further control over his self...or perhaps his self in relation to the word.  "A veritable treasure trove of skills," she murmurs, amazed at his capacity.  She, herself, has become a part of the world; hardly surprising, given her lack of connection to the Pattern or another Great Power.

"We need to move quickly," she murmurs.  "Either defeat the Archons or subsume them into our own host, then again deal with the cube."  She glances at Banglen-Yp, hoping the strange woman...women...have an infinite capacity for consumption.  And, to be truthful, a little nervous that might be the case.  "Can you deal with the cube again, Banglen-Yp?"

Berd continues his searching, now sweeping the area for hidden forces and reaching out from this sphere to track the group heading this way.  He prioritized things in favour of how close each group seemed to its destination...they ought to be close.

"I need a squad of your people in the Underflow, Right, to prevent any who escape from warning those who bring the cube," the General quietly notes.  "All the others, with me.  Once we've checked the area, we will attack en masse, breaking them or forcing a change of sides."

With some difficulty, Right marshals his forces.  The Archons seem reluctant to follow commands.  Until, that is, they start to realise that some of them will be able to leave this place.  At which point, they all want to volunteer to guard the Underflow...

Eventually though, with some effort, Right succeeds in dividing the Archons into two uneven groups.  The first flees back into the Underflow, while the second, led by Right himself, awaits further instructions.  It must be said though, that their attitude at this point seems sullen.

James meanwhile, observed by the Banglen-Yps, suddenöy seems to find the right combination of factors.  He suddenly dwindles to a hair-thin line in the air, all but invisible from any angle.

"Is it working?  I can't really tell.  I wish I had a mirror, though I've no idea how that would work in this place."

Aware that his musings are not really to the point, James abruptly changes topic "If this goes as I hope it will, you'll have difficulty seeing me and I've no easy way of telling Archons apart.  No offence, but one danioti looks pretty much the same as another to me, Right excluded, of course.  We need a way to identify each other."

"When I engage, I'll do this."  A loud wolf howl comes from the spot where James should be, and apparently still is, standing.  "It's probably easiest to just clear the area if you want to be safe, but if you're engaged close by, give an answer so we don't have any messy mistakes."

 

Meanwhile, down in the Batcave...

...or at least the batty cavorting of the multitude that was Banglen-Yp.

Moving in and out of one another and blending and constantly changing ther (their-her) shey (she-they) had been busy trying things in this evidently-not-normal world.  To themer (them-her) anything was not-normal, except where shey  came from.

Then Cyan spoke to themer and ther focus all turned to the single woman.

• OOoOOoooo  Yee^eEeeesss_SSss!  MMmMMmmmhmmMMmm,  yuMmy! •

An insane amount of tongues came out to lick twice the amount of lips, give or take double that, seeing how shey all mixed and blended together, changed constantly and generally was giving this world a reputation for being weirder then than what it was when it was less weird that what it was since shey arrived on the scene of weirdness.

 

Cyan frowns.  The morale of the Archons is an important point, and they will only follow someone who can hold both their interest and their respect.  Of course, sometimes fear proves sufficient for that as well.  ~ We will have to take a chance here, James, Banglen-Yp, and do this ourselves.  Two dozen Archons against us. ~  Herself, James with his Pattern might and new equipment, the small army of Banglen-Yp's, Right, and Berd.

Well, she has always hated even fights.

"Right.  Upon consideration, we need to ensure none of the enemy escapes, and that no reinforcements break through.  I want your forces to hold the Underflow against both intrusion and excursion."  The General grins, a feral expression.  "And oh yes; tell them to watch."  She eyes Right for a moment.  "You may remain with us, or lead them there - as you see fit, old friend."

~ I hear, James, and look forward to your 'demonstration'.  Banglen Yp - when the battle commences, deal with the Archons as you see fit.  Please keep your distance from myself, though - it is not safe, not while I hold gurthang.  Berd will engage those who take to the air to use their powers at a distance.

James, we look to you to begin. I await your signal. ~

Moving closer to the crest of the hill blocking them from the nearby Archons, Cyan grins, the smile humorless beneath pale sapphire eyes.  She swallows once, feeling fear creep over her - fear for her allies and their well-being.  Fingers flex, and she takes the Deathiron's grip in her hand, waiting for James' signal.

As she has always maintained - sometimes, one must take a chance.

On her shoulder, Berd prepares himself, slowly reaching out to gather up the reins of power of this bizarre world; abruptly, a multitude of shimmering threads spring into existance around the drake's shifting form, dancing with rainbow light like dew-drop spiderwebs in the sun.

James nods agreement, "Okay."  He moves up to the crest of the hill with Cyan and the others.  Habit makes him crouch as he gets close, even though he is no reasonably confident that he cannot be seen.

James moves up the hillside, his progress marked by a faint disturbance in the air, like a line of gossamer drifting on a summer breeze.

Behind him, assuming he is facing in his direction of travel, Cyan and Berd prepare, while the collective which is Banglen-Yp appears to view any upcoming battle as little more than another free buffet.

James reaches the crest of the hill, and for an instant he appears to his companions as a twisting prismatic line of fire, as his form catches the sunlight, bends it and scatters it around him.  If the enemy, beyond the hill, have spotted the shimmering light, though, they are clearly not in the mood to investigate.

Before him he sees Archons at work, though with little enthusiasm.  They seem more interested in starting fights among themselves than in actually preparing the area for the arrival of another cube, which appears to be what they should be doing.  There are perhaps two dozen of the creatures working at creating a hollow similar to the one in the fallen city.

But progress is constantly interrupted as two or more of the wheels find some reason to attack each other.  It seems certain that the nature of this place, which is having such a debilitating effect on the morale of Right and his troops, is proving equally irritating for the Seraphim.

Monofilament, Cyan thinks, staring after James, the word extremely out of place with her normal vocabulary.  But then, after wandering the Myriad Worlds for a dozen years, she has picked up a thing or two.  Two dozen Archons, she notes as she moves up to the hill's crest herself.  Not fantastic odds for the four of them - well, if one counts the horde of Banglen-Yp's as one, which she does - but not out of the question at all.

They had to make a good showing of it, or else she risked losing some of her support among the other archons.

"Are you prepared, Berd?" she inquires softly.  The drake nods.  Banglen-Yp...she doesn't have to ask, given the woman's terrible hunger.  James arrived at the hill's crest much before she, herself - likely he is in place, and he did state he would make the animal's haunting cry when he attacks, not when he is ready.

Which leaves it to her to begin this.

Without hesitation, Cyan strides over the hill, the deathiron a black, flickering bar in her hand.  And keeps walking into the air, as if ascending a staircase of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide.

"Seraphim!"  Her voice rings like a peal of thunder, amplified by Berd's power to resonate in the pysche.  "Harbonah's plans collapse, and you are left to suffer in this dead world.  Join those who shall rise, or remain with those who fall, and perish!  One or the other, for there is no escape from here!"  Though Cyan doubts any will take her up on the offer, at least until they've been given some 'proof', she has to give them the chance.  And, she reflects, the proof is ready to be delivered.

On her shoulder, Berd sits up straight, his eyes a pair of whirling suns.

James is quite encouraged as he considers the prospect in the hollow below.  Twenty Archons (or a few more) and already in the mood to pick on each other.  James is reasonably confident that in his current state he could turn the Archons' quarrels into a suitably lethal brawl without their ever realising an enemy was present.

All that ceases to be a consideration after Cyan announces herself, of course.  It's quite an entrance: James knows he should be taking advantage of the distraction and he's still tempted to stand and watch.  James also finds Berd's appearance intriguing, somehow the limited visual field actually makes it easier to perceive the scope of Berd's influence.  James can't help but think that the little dragon could use that to his advantage But perhaps that's how the Archons always see him.

Tempting it may be, but James doesn't wait around.  As Cyan walks up, James jogs down, moving at a loping run to cover the ground quickly without making too much noise.  He heads for the greatest concentration of danioti.  He's not sure what effect Fangmir would have on  the other Archons but he's pretty confident he can cut the blade wheels.

Cyan's voice booms out like thunder, and the Archons pause their activities, at least briefly.  Then...

Then they simply ignore her.  They are, apparently, too busy squabbling among themselves to pay attention to mere outsiders.  If anything, their aggression seems to have intensified.  Perhaps they blame each-other for the sudden intrusion and the interruption to their regularly scheduled disagreements...

The Banglen-Yps, still a group of not-quite individuals, seem to find the whole display highly amusing as, again and again, Archons pass too close to each other, in their opinions, and skirmish briefly before moving apart and picking fights with other Archons.

And in the midst of it, invisible unless you know what to look for (and almost invisible, even if you do), James starts smashing Fangmir into any danioti that come within reach.  The blade is dangerous to the wheels, shattering metal pieces, or tearing them loose to lay inert on the flat, textureless ground.  This serves mostly to irritate the Archons who, in the absence of a clearly visible target to vent their rage, tend to turn to the nearest visible natural target - other Archons.  Yes, there are several intruders nearby, but the other Archons are closer...

It seems that now is the perfect time to settle old grudges.

And as they continue fighting among themselves, James works to keep them from calming down.  Fragments of metal ricochet off his armour, but none manage to penetrate...

Far above James, beyond his reach, one of the eshurianti suddenly seems to stop spinning, and explodes in a ball of rapidly dissipating flame.

Cyan pauses, blinking.  She expected all manner of issues with the Archons.  Being ignored wasn't one of them.  After a moment of blind, foolish disbelief, she begins to laugh.  Shaking her head, she glances up at Berd.  "Well, that puts paid to my grand entrance.  Is any of this because of you?"

Berd shrugs.  One of his minds is currently waging a subtle mental war against the Archons; it's possible the stress this creates in them is enough to further degrade their self-control, to the point where a nearby target, any target is acceptable.

"Cursed good thing I sent Right and his forces away."  Cyan shakes her head, slowly lowering toward the ground.  "Harbonah made a tactical error when he chose this world."  She studies the current violence, and sadly shakes her head.  "If we join," Cyan points out, "it will focus their attention on us.  James is doing well-enough as it is."  Indeed, James' invisible assualts have turned the Seraphim against their own.  "This work will never be completed," she muses, "but the Cube will arrive and must be destroyed."

Her eyes snap up to where one of the eshurianti erupts in a pyrotechnic, final glory.  "Continue to destroy those on high, Berd," she orders, her heart heavy.  If only they would listen.  If only this were not necessary.

If only they had not begun and perpetuated this war.

James is pleasantly surprised to find the Archons so helpfully bloody-minded, not to say vicious.  Keeping them fighting each other proved far less of a problem than he had expected.  Not one to complain, James sets about his task with a certain dogged enthusiasm.  There's no honour or glory to be had in skulking about starting fights he can't finish, but James is far too pragmatic for such foolishness to bother him.

For the most part, he continues to concentrate on the danioti since that seems to be effective, but he does look to take a pass at an eshurianti if the opportunity arises.  He wants to start a fight between a danioti and an eshurianti or a herenethi.  Watching such a fight at close quarters might prove instructive, since his primary weapon is not so far from removed from the blade-wheels.

The battle, if it can really be called that, rather than a brawl, doesn't last long.  At the end there are a half dozen Archons - three danioti, two eshurianti, and a lone herenethi - spaced out over as wide an area as possible, consistent with still being able to see the General and her army.

The field of conflict is covered with fragments of metal, scattered fires, and small craters lined with cracked, blackened glass.

The mood of the surviving Archons is subdued and sullen.  They are revolving, of course, to them it is as vital as a heartbeat, but they are doing so far more slowly than might be considered normal.  They all act in a manner which would be consistent with tiredness in a human - they seem irritable and slow to answer when addressed

The herenethi is finally appointed spokesman, though there does still seem to be some animosity, particularly among the danioti.  The wheel, not blazing with its customary actinic glare, moves forward and stops uncertainly between Cyan and the faint crease in the air which represents James.

+ WH^{AT I}S I_{T YOU W}ANT OF U^S? +

The General replies without preamble - the Archons are hurting, and the longer she keeps them here, the less likely they will listen.

"I want you to leave," she states flately.  "Leave, and do not warn those bringing the cube here.  The side for which you fight is the losing one - we have already destroyed one of Harbonah's cubes, we will destroy this one, and we will destroy the others." She steps forward, coming close to the eshurianti; Berd looks to be sweating (as much as a reptile can...), but the General ignores the danger.

"Your suffering here and your subserviance to Harbonah have been wasted, though I suspect he will care not a whit for that."

"But you can leave," she continues.  "Or join my army, watching us from the Underflow, and learn valuable secrets.  Your choice.  Make it now and go, one way or another - I will not hold you in this painful place any longer."

A message flows from her to Right, attending within the Underflow.  Right, allow them to either join or leave.  Do not prevent them, do not harm them.  This battle is over - the others will be coming.

Still keeping an eye on the Archons - both metaphorically and literally - Berd reaches out into the Underflow, seeking the incoming Cube.

"Most...impressive, James," the General murmurs, the sapphire in her eyes dark and gloomy.  "You have indeed lifted your game." Then she shudders, passing a hand across her brow, her eyes brightening in the world's curious light.  "Apologies," Cyan whispers.  "There are times..."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:56, Sun 04 Sept 2011.

One of the danioti moves and another reacts.  The air is filled with the sound of metal upon metal, and the snarling of wild beasts as the two threaten each and the third joins the dispute.

Finally they calm down without actually fighting each other, but they continue to quietly threaten and posture.

The subdued herenethi twists in the air and adopts a glowing female humanoid form with wings of flickering lightning fanning out behind it.  It drops to one knee and bows its head in submission.  + As you _command, Ge^ner_al.  We are named Anae^{l, and we} _{will joi}n you.  The_{se othe}rs are fre_e t^{o d}o as _they will. +

James keeps a watchful eye on proceedings as Cyan delivers her ultimatum.  He is tempted to intervene as the danioti bicker, but decides against it.  There is a greater chance of detection if he acts to provoke the Archons now and given an external threat they may yet prove dangerous.  Moreover, Cyan has given these survivors the chance to choose for themselves and at least the remaining Archons have the sense to listen.  They are either possessed of greater self-control than their brethren or too exhausted too fight anymore (though James doesn't have much hope of the latter).  In any case, they no longer pose an immediate threat.  Those bringing the cube are likely to present a much greater challenge.

While James admires Cyan's attempts to negotiate a truce of sorts, he is concerned that attempts to parlay may cost them an advantage in the coming encounter.  The 'fresh' Archons will not be as worn down by the peculiar visual affect of this world but they will not be familiar with it either and will probably be most vulnerable when they first arrive.