#cadwrites

The vampire swept out of the store in a huff, his cloak dramatically flapping in the wind, hands clutching the lupine outfit as if it was a lifeline. The robot was following, slightly slower just as determined.

Oh, that couldn’t do.

With a snap of the shopkeeper’s fingers, the door slams shut in front of Sparkles’ face. Sparkles stumbles backwards a few steps, quite disconcerted and confused. He turns to see the shopkeeper leaping over the counter and bounding up to him-

“What,” says Sparkles. His tone sounds rather off, yet musical, and he silently swears at that fact. He tries to grab for his pen and paper, but those are snatched from his hands and tossed into the back of the shop. He watches sadly as the pen clattered off into the darkness unknown.

The shopkeeper grabs his hand and pulls him towards him, almost like a twisted waltz. His fingers caress Sparkles’ hand, and a look of malevolent curiosity appears on the shopkeeper’s gaunt, slightly purple face. The hand is brought to the shopkeeper’s lips, and so very gently, the shopkeeper kisses Sparkles’ hand.

“Let all mortal flesh keep silence,” whispers the shopkeeper, “For all flesh is made of grass.” In a louder, more conversational tone, the shopkeeper continues. “But that’s not true of you anymore, isn’t it, Sparkles? You’re all metal now, so shiny. Do you know who I am?”

And the curtain falls, and Sparkles wonders how he didn’t catch it before. He has to speak. Wincing at every musical word, he says, “You’re- but he just left the room and you were there at the same time as him-”

Parv interrupts him. “Oh, open your mind, Sparkles! I’m- I’m like a better version of him, from the fucking future or something like that. I’m- I’m awesome. Maybe I’m from like another timeline, or this timeline in the future, but- Sparkles, or should that be Sparkloid?”

“No,” says Sparkles. “Don’t call me that, Pa- Parv?”

Parv laughs. “If you’re gonna stick with him being the real one, then… call me Crux. You see,” and here Par- Crux flicks out his other hand to fully reveal purple dripping from it- “I’m quite fluxed up now, Sparkloid! Fucked up, fluxed up, there’s no difference here, not any more!”

He dances around Sparkles, pulling him along, still hanging on to Sparkles’ hand. Sparkles doesn’t really know what the flux to even say to any of this, so confused is he.

He wants to sing, but he pushes away that urge to try and fucking focus, dammit.

“I exploded, Sparkloid. Exploded. Thrice – once for novelty, twice for folly, thrice for greed and pride and aaaaaaaaall that fun stuff – and oh, that final explosion threw me into the flux. ” Crux pulls Sparkles into a sudden hug, before throwing him off and tossing him into a pile of clothes. “And- oh, do you know how it feels to be- the flux, Sparkloid, it broke me, tore me open inside and took out all the tasty Parvy bits and left absolutely fucking nothing inside. But that’s what a good crucible is, Sparkloid – something to burn things in and to create something new.”

And Sparkles, just sitting on a donkey costume and a plush crown and a pair of crows wings – all of which he swears are twitching – he stares up at Crux in horror. Crux is approaching him now, but instead of helping him up, Crux collapses next to him, sitting by him and using one hand to hold him down.

“And all through it, I was like – my Strife, my Strifey, why have you forsaken me?” The absolute venom in Crux’s voice silences any comments that Sparkles wants to make, and he’d gulp if he could.

His throat’s only good for one thing, now, and this stress is making the desire to sing stronger. It’s his function.

“That’s what I am, now. A cauldron to make things better. This- this shop, it’s not even my doing, but like a good boy who listens to what his mommy wants, I staff it and I sell enchanted clothing.” The bitterness in Crux’s voice is almost tangible now, but at the same time, he sounds enamoured. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love it – I love causing this chaos, I- I love changing you all into toys and playthings, and oh! Sparkles! You’re not a real person anymore until Halloween. Only I get to be a real person around here, and fuck, I love it.”

And all of a sudden, Crux grabs Sparkles’ hand again. “Sing for me,” he commands.

Sparkles wants to, needs to, but he’s gritting his teeth and he glares at Crux.

“Sing for me,” Crux says. “That’s what you did back then, and now I want to hear it. I want to hear it all. I want you to stop resisting, and to break like a good tin soldier does.”

He musn’t-

He should-

Sparkles sings.

And Crux’s eyes shut, and he sighs in relief.

And later, Sparkles stumbles out of the shop, his mind a blank, not quite remembering what the hell just happened.

Parv's just in front of him, the Parv that he knows

what

happ

The Kingsnake rules over a world beset by so much chaos that it’s impossible to tell if that world comes before this one or after.

Perhaps it is both.

It fits the Kingsnake’s nature, for the world of an explorer such as he must not ever be fully mappable. However, sometimes an explorer must reach out from familiar lands to reach for the unknown.

Let me tell you of how the Kingsnake’s world became unknowable in time.

Let me tell you of how Chaos stole Time from under the nose of the Star Maker himself.

-

Many legends speak of the Kingsnake’s hoard, of the wonders and artifacts that comprise its bulk. Here lies the eye of the monochromatic beast god Panda, a sanguine orb of the Bloodied himself and the tool with which the Illuminator, Overcomer of Obstacles split the mountains to prove a point to the Bloodied. The Kingsnake loves a challenge, and to steal from his fellow gods is the sweetest challenge indeed.

But there was one who he had not stolen from, and that was the chief of the gods himself.

Oh, what horror lies under the watch of the Starmaker! After he made the stars and the sky to match the Earthbreaker’s ground and beasts, dark things began to crawl from the edges of creation. They would have threatened everyone, except that the Starmaker took these things and locked them up in the twisted turning branches of the great Yogdrasil, the tree in the centre of Creation.

But, as dark things tend to do, they corrupted their captor. He began to work dark magicks on his captives, twisting them even further into ghoulish forms in the name of science. It is said that when the prophesied Ragnayog occurs, that the great ice-bound effigies of the gods shall break and the beasts shall be let loose to wreck havoc.

Fortunately, this was not the aim of the Kingsnake. He was one of the dark things who had eluded the Starmaker’s grasp, and was not one of the gods under his command – but he did not seek to destroy, only to explore the dark places.

Chaos, as usual, had not thought of a plan. He knew that the great Illuminator regularly visited the Starmaker’s tree in his chariot of falling stars. When the Illuminator stopped near Chaos’ world, the Kingsnake made himself into the smallest snake and slithered onto the back of the chariot.

Attending the Illuminator were two demigods who would, much later, be gods in their own right. However, that is another story and shall be told another time.

The attendants were in charge of the Illuminator’s chariot and the treasures that he kept on it. They were tasked with inspecting it at every stop, to make sure that none had been stolen or that no one had decided to ride along.

Chaos coiled up as small as he could and hoped that the attendants would pass him over. He was used to hiding in small places to avoid tricks and traps, yet this was a rather ill-thought plan he had.

Unfortunately, the attendants soon approached the hiding place of the Kingsnake. They were bickering, as all underlings are wont to do, and their gaze passed over the tiny form of the almighty Kingsnake.

“Was that bangle there before?” asked one. “The one of the double headed snake?”

The other shrugged and said that it must have been.

The first was suspicious, however, and said that they should investigate. As they moved to pick up the Kingsnake, they were startled by the Illuminator’s voice who said that they were preparing to ride. The two attendants did not wish to fall out of the chariot, so they ignored the suspicious bangle and moved to their positions.

The Kingsnake sighed in relief.

When the chariot began to move with the speed of a shooting star, he was no longer so pleased.

After the chariot had stopped, the attendants began to move the treasures of the Illuminator into the great Yogdrasil. They left the offerings alone, and so Chaos was free to slither like a drunken fool out of the treasures. However, being the curious creature he was, Chaos could not resist examining some of the other treasures. He picked up a bottle of green miscellany and was greeted with an outpouring of poisonous mist.

The Kingsnake was forced to escape through a crack in the wall. If he had been any other creature, he would have surely died as the mist tore at his bones.

He emerged into another room, and oh, here was some true treasure. This was where the Starmaker kept all of Time, and where he guarded it most jealously, for you see, Time was the cause of much ills and the Starmaker thought it best if only he was subject to the ravages of time.

But, the Kingsnake had no pockets to put this time in, so he opened his mouth and he swallowed as much Time as could fit in him.

Just as Chaos gulped up the last of the Time, the door swung open and there was the Starmaker, Chief of the Gods. His anger was such that the stars in his pitch black eyes were exploding, and from his fingers crumbled nebulas.

His gaze landed on the Kingsnake amongst the Time that he did not finish, and quite reluctantly, the Starmaker found himself rather impressed by the feat that Chaos had achieved. To get into his dominion was a tricky task indeed, undetected even more so.

So he offered the Kingsnake a deal – that Chaos must serve under him for the eternity afterwards, to be one of the gods of his watch and to never work against him. Otherwise, he would lock him up as he would other creatures of the darkness and give his lands to the Illuminator, who would surely rob the lands of their charming chaos.

Reluctantly, with a mouth full of Time, Chaos agreed.

For an age and a day, he was forced to keep the Time in his belly as he was kept at Yogdrasil – but at last he found a way to escape to his own kingdom, which had grown uneasy in his absence. And upon arrival, he spat out all the Time he had kept inside him.

The Time fled as if a flock of doves, yet on their destructive rush to freedom, they caused the land of Chaos to become unknowable in the river that is Time itself. However, the Kingsnake did not mind at all.

In fact, he preferred it this way.

The Starmaker raged, but he was powerless to act against this for this was a very great trick indeed.

To the north lies the forsaken Flatlands, a curiously horizontal land thick with slimes. Strange ruins litter the wastelands, beset with spelling errors and the like. The explorer-adventurer Nilesy and his hybrid panda companion, having plunged the depths of Sheol, have taken on the challenge to find “the diamonds in the rough.”

Bordering the flatlands lies a great forest. The locals call it the Kingdom of Saplings, and they claim that occasionally, a voice can be heard amongst the leaves. This spirit is the Littlewood, known for its sweet tunes and engaging commentary. An adventurer must be wary, though, lest they become saplings themselves.

The small forest borders a great city, built on the dirt fields of the lowlands. The Architect fled to this place after the Great Rift, seeking refuge in the lands of Lord Sips. Once, House Sips ruled the entirety of the north - but they have fallen on hard times. In exchange for the Lord’s protection from the alchemist and the scientist, the architect Sjin is helping Lord Sips regain his family’s empire through an ambitious plan involving dirt. They say that at night, you can see the Architect flying around, summoning stones to build with - but they also say that the beaver mafia is after them. Who knows? The city of dirt is not yet done, but it will be one day.

There is and always will be, however; a greater city. It is named Israphel, and all other cities lie in its shadow. We shall not talk of Israphel and all the darkness that lies within

On the other side of Yogg, an unwary adventurer might stumble across some strange machines. These are the work of Lalna, the thaumaturge. He knows the ancient legends of thaumcraft and yogbox and tekkit, and he uses this eldritch knowledge to craft artifacts of scientifik potency.

The sorceress paladin Lomadia is a renowned hero, rumoured to be the cause of the dinosaur’s extinction. She is notoriously secretive, leading to much rumours and gossip. Perhaps she is part-owl, perhaps she has teamed up with Lalna, perhaps she is sweet on the spaceman of legend, but she’s not telling.

Darkness covers the south, a creeping darkness that curls around the world. Mushrooms grow to a prodigious size and even the cows have fungi on their backs. These are the providence of Zoeya, the mycomancer - disturb her fungus and you will find yourself small and full of spores. She is only the apprentice to a greater power, who dwells in a great basalt tower in the middle of the darkness. He is Rythian, the alchemist mage with the ability to change light to matter. He seeks revenge on Sjin and Lalna, but his power was diminished when the world cracked.

In the midst of this feud, there is a prophecy involving a spaceman and a dwarf. The spaceman will come from an enterprising ship and meet a red bearded dwarf. This dwarf have not been found yet, this dwarf with a love for explosions and holes. When these two meet, they will embark on a great adventure and reunite the broken world - or break it more.

Notes

- Explorer is a valid occupation here as much of the planet is unexplored. Nilesy is one, and Gamechap and Bertie are also explorers with a vested interest in danger. Golden sword of justice!

- there was a planet before, of Minecraftia, the only survivors from that time are Sjin, Rythian and Lalna (and Zoeya) - and they basically exploded the place. Oh shit. Everyone else are reincarnations of their Minecraftia selves.

- Zoeya is a strange case - The others

- the four have strange powers

- Xephos is a member of an alien race, the Spacemen - Sips is descended from the spacemen, Sjin would have been but

It loomed.

It wasn’t fair and frankly it was quite terrifying of it to do so, but there were really two kinds of people in this world, those who could tell the world off and those who huddled as the darkness approached and things kept happening.

The two in their lovely wooden cottage, huddling together in the storage room as the storm raged on outside and demigods and robots clashed in the distance-

Oh, how Fyre wished he could be the kind of fearsome dragon to raise his hackles against the world and to chase everyone away from his Brute, but alas-

There was a lightning crack and Fyre’s feathers floofed up and he whimpered, pushing his nose into Brute’s side. Brute was patting him, but he wasn’t sure what to do, he was sure that their house had just been struck and he could hear

Fire.

They’re in the basement, and a piece of the upstairs falls down and crashes against the doorway.

Fyre keens and he stares at Brute with unblinking yellow eyes, and Brute feels like screaming too. Well, he does scream a little bit, but he doesn’t want Fyre to worry so he stops and he tries to hold it inside.

He begins to talk about-

Great, towering castles rising from the ocean, with their names emblazoned in great big blue stone and

Wonderfully wooden towns half paper, half intricate beadwork that could almost be blown down and

Frosty wastelands beautiful in their emptiness, how wonderful the cold would be right now-

They’re dreamers.

It’s what they do.

Even as the flames lick at their feet and they brace themselves to wake up at ‘spawn’ but they’re still scared and still nervous.

The world is unkind to us, thinks the dragon, but we have each other.

Oh, he goes on and on and on about how he’s a self made man – the million dollar Strife, as if there weren’t so many of those in our world and theirs – and he struts his new armour like it’s a part of him-

It’s not a metaphor.

One night, as he traverses the midnight woods in bloodied leaps and sanguine bounds, passing the land where time stands so utterly still-

Parvis decides to sneak into the Solution Towers. You couldn’t stop him if you tried.

Nobody could, and that’s the thing about being the most narcissistic asshole on this side of the cube.

There are wires in the walls, veins of electricity pumping from a nuclear heart to all the machines that whirr and buzz in the lonely night, and Parv thinks that this is Strife too, all these mechanical organs outside his body.

If you destroyed the tower, Strife would probably shrivel up and die.

He is a self made man.

But here is Strife’s bed, and there are thick cables leading into it. There isn’t a blanket to huddle under, or a pillow to cuddle, not even an anime bodypillow-

Parv stares.

Every night, he must take himself apart with his machines. There’s an arm there, fingers curled slightly and twitching in absent dreams, but it’s interfaced with metal shards and glowing red tubes.

The same goes for the rest of the body, if it could even be called a body.

It’s not a metaphor.