ST: Alright then, if I have your permission, I guess I should start at your beginning.
_____________
5 years before Delmos's birth:
In the Central district of The Great Forest of Raygene, there was a small spirit smithy run by a single woman. The sun had been harsh all week as she pounded away at her works, from blades to hammers, shields to armor, rifles to cannons, and even producing spare Spirit Steel to sell to others. All this in the hope that when her father soon returned, she would have finally earned the title of a full-fledged Spiritsmith, and would take over the smithy full time. Alas, today all of her planning and efforts fell through.
Even as the woman was pounding away and hearing the cries of the metal she struck as it was forcibly fed large quantities of mana, she heard the rapid, distinct, and heavy, knocking of her workshop's door.
"IS THIS THE ROSEBLOOD SPIRIT SMITHY? I HAVE NEWS REGARDING THE GREAT WAR!!!" A man cried, probably the same one who was knocking on the door.
The man continued to drum on the door with increasing frustration, knocking louder and louder. "What's this asshole doing? He's going to knock the door off its hinges at this rate!!!"
With an angered sigh the woman set her piece in the furnace to reheat it once more as she hurried to the door and swung it open. She threw the door with such force that it flew off its hinges startling the soldiers on the other side.
She watched the door tumble hundreds of meters into the distance. "Damn I'm strong… well so much for the door." She thought to herself feeling a mix of pride and annoyance in her door throwing endeavors. But her sense of pride slowly faded as her eyes locked onto the soldiers.
"Can't you jackasses tell we're closed!? Anyways, military contracts are handled by my father, who will return in about a week, so until then go bother someone else!!!" The Spiritsmith Apprentice shouted at the ather/human hybrid standing before her.
The soldier held his hat in his hands, looking as if he was about to cry. The woman was surprised by his appearance and began to apologize, "Look kid, I-I'm so, so sorry for yelli-" but before she could even finish her sentence, he stamped his foot down as he stood at attention and gave her a salute, tears and snot freely flowing down his face. Even as distraught as he was, his eyes were a brilliant gold, shining with determination. For a moment she was caught off guard, but what he said next changed everything, and charted a course nobody would have predicted.
"Mir-Mirabelle Rosebood. I-I am Second Lieutenant Martin, and I am here to inform you today that, y-your father, Captain Huston Roseblood, was…" Martin seemed to nervously swallow as he bitterly finished his sentence, "Killed while… While protecting me..." He uttered while clenching his jaw, both enraged and embarrassed about what had unfolded.
For a moment Mirabelle thought he was joking, but as she stared into his strange, diamond-shaped pupils she could tell he wasn't lying. Mirabelle staggered back a step and looked behind Martin and saw two other soldiers standing a few paces behind the man; both covered in dressed wounds. In the same moment she saw their truck was riddled with holes, and was missing so many pieces it was a miracle they even made it this far. Mirabelle's eyes slowly locked onto Martin, the boy was spotless; the only sign he had that he had been to war was his tattered uniform.
"I am so sorry for my-" Martin began before being abruptly cut off, "Come inside, all of you. This- this is better discussed in private."
Her mind raced as she watched the soldiers begin to stammer, they probably didn't expect any kindness to begin with. They were here to announce an untimely death, that typically doesn't result in a friendly atmosphere. Then Mirabelle had a realization, what if her father was never endangered, never endangered until Martin abandoned the front… No that couldn't be the case, if it was that means they dragged this coward here on the way to headquarters awaiting orders on what to do with him…
"It could be possible…" Mirabelle quietly muttered to herself, but Martin could barely hear her, "W-what? D-did you s-say something?" Martin stammered, as he was slowly walking past her. Mirabelle shook her head, with a smile motioning for him to hurry inside.
Mirabelle wasn't having it, if her father died for an accursed deserter, she was fully prepared to strike the bastard down if he couldn't justify his actions. Making sure her plan takes place behind closed doors. "Please sit on the bench over there," Mirabelle said as she motioned to her patio. "I'll be right back, just grabbing some drinks to cool my head."
Immediately she set her plan into action, as she used level 3 telekinesis to pull-
—------------------
DR: Wait wait wait.
ST: What is it, Delmos?
DR: Does the Thrall even know what our magics do? Like how-
ST: I am a huge proponent of the show don't tell mentality.
DR: But what if, and I'm only saying IF… they're completely retarded?
ST: Hahhh, how would they come to listen to me in the endless void that connects all worlds not once, not twice, but at least four times?
DR: Vibe with me for a moment… Thrall you can relax for a moment. Me and the Storyteller are going to have a discussion.
ST: Fine, what are you getting at?
DR: Ok so what if all of us, are at the moment just a book on a shelf, and Thrall is just a potential reader of our tome that has been forcibly inserted into our world; to give said reader a valid viewpoint or something…
ST: Go on…
DR: Now for most places in our world learning how to read isn't even a difficult task, needing only a few years or so of occasional study. Furthermore, most if not all of the summons in the past 400,000 years or so have been able to read and write, regardless of how closely their brains resembled iron.
ST: You sure went pretty far out of your way to call this fictional reader dense, didn't you? Say doesn't that sound a bit like yourself, too dense to infer the truth, like how Our Guest is a REAL living person, not an inanimate thrall that was mystically inserted into existence, Delmos.
DR: Alright then, let's make a friggin bet. IF I win YOU have to give me 350,000,000,000 units of, what was it again… AH "AURA".
ST: And what if I win, will you be quiet as I tell my guest the story of the world?
DR: You bet you a-, Hmm Thrall may be upset by such words… AH Keister, you bet your keister I will.
ST: Ok, so what is your challenge?
DR: I want you to describe Thrall, give me a few details. They are sitting directly in front of you right?
ST: …
DR: What, cat got your tongue?
ST: No, I was thinking about how I should start…
ST: Well, They're alive in a way?...
DR: And? Wouldn't literally anyone, anyone at all; have that as a prerequisite.
ST: Well.. they know how to listen, some way or another?... Maybe?
DR: Alright cut the Shi-Crap… Cut the crap. You can make out just about as many details about them as yourself, heck it may be even less in all probability.
ST: Fine… I must admit they are quite the queer entity, as not even I can… fully comprehend their being, but that doesn't mean anything that should call their validity into question. How woul- __________ _________
DR: PAY UP>>>>>>$>>>>>>[_My Wallet_]+$>>>>>>[||||||||||||||||||||].
ST: My ears!!!! H-How, WHERE IN THIS EMPTY GAP DID YOU LEARN TO SPEW SUCH VILE NOISES!!!! Hahhhhhhh, what do you want from me? What could you value so highly that you must construct such impossibly abhorrent sounds to torment me into giving it to you?
DR: Aura, I haven't been able to produce much in millennia, but you on the other hand have a galaxy sized ocean of a pool, and I just want a few buckets of it…
ST: I- I can recall you asking for a smattering just a few moments ago how much was it again, we did have a deal after all.
DR: Can't you just check the last page? It should be up there somewhere; my patience grows thin…
ST: AGAIN, WITH YOUR INSISTENCE THAT WE ARE NOTHING BUT MERE WORDS ON A PAGE IN A BOOK!!! . . . I swear if it wasn't for what HE did to my Homeworld I would call HIM over here and laugh as HE-
DR: Spoiler No Spoiling! Spoiler No Spoiling! Spoiler No Spoiling! Look Amigos Spoiler is running away, we did it yay!!!!
ST: GOD MY EARS!!! W-wh-why. . . Why must you torment me… YOU, you agree with me right, the noises he makes are wrong, so deeply disturbing and abhorrent.
DR: Look now we're boring them so I'll hurry this up. Give me a quadrillion and a good, short summary of the powers of each race so our little baby Thrall can understand things.
ST: So be it. I shall do it by the end of this story, as I have made a deal.
—-------------------
You sat there stunned, they could infer even less about you than you could them from appearances alone. It wasn't like you were really hiding anything about yourself, but being excluded from the discussion that you were present for felt mildly insulting. Alas before you could ask what was even going on that they would interrupt the story for so long; The Storyteller turned to you and bowed his head and said, "I am so, so sorry for this…" You could hear the sorrow in his voice, it was as if he was genuinely distraught about this situation. "You see if… if i-I just knew what I was getting into I wouldn't have had this outburst…"
You were taken aback in surprise, as you just now realized that his smile had long since faded. You knew that the void is a cold and cruel place where you could foresee many dying in the nearly endless gap between the worlds, so in a show of compassion to your only companion you have encountered in ages you place your hand on his shoulder and give a warm and embracing smile, just as he had for you so long ago.
The Storyteller let out a sigh of relief as he pulled himself back together and took a deep breath before he resumed talking, "Thank you… I needed that." and for once in a long while he sent you one of his invisible smiles once again.
—-----------------
ST: I guess I should go back a bit and resume where I left off.
DR: Yeah, yeah… hey I guess the title doesn't really fit all too well right now does it?
ST: Do as you please Oh mighty editor of the invisible and unrealistic tome of nonexistence.