Chapter 15 - Who meddled this time?
Primordial Calendar 097, Summer Season 8, and 23rd day, Chaos Universe
Within the cosmos, primarily near where the Purgatory waystation, several chaotic entities found their routines in complete upheaval, all because of some fools that wanted to screw with the universal rules of creation.
How dare they attempt to usurp their roles?
One, Snarva, wasn't appreciative of what happened in Javelin. He watched the activity with some asperity.
"Stationmaster, do you wish to do something about this?" Snarva glanced at the one-eyed man who had been mortal after having descended from a long line of deities.
The one-eyed man tucked silver hair behind a pointed ear and shrugged indifferently. "I don't." He glanced at Snarva. "Besides, the ones who really screwed with this entire ensemble aren't even in this world."
"What?" Snarva was furious. "Then where are they?" He wanted to hurt someone for having wholly ruined his day.
"Back in a different world entirely." The stationmaster shrugged indifferently. "Go send your lackeys to find them if you're so pissed and leave me out of this morass." He sighed. "Leave the others who got dumped here alone alone. Including the writer." He smirked. "I gave him and the others the ability to manipulate the timeline thirteen years in advance."
This was stupid and ultimately pointless. Snarva rolled his eyes. "Do you really think they can make a difference?" he sneered. This world is set to become an inhabitable wasteland." He waved a hand in disgust. "Yet, should we tolerate those insignificant beings that dare write history?"
Snarva flinched when the stationmaster regarded him coldly. "Funny, you weren't this disdainful when the layout for this entire schema was first proposed." The man's voice was deceptively soft. "So, what happened? When did you become so determined to root out those who meddled, thinking they were just the humans transmigrated and reincarnated into this setting?" He tilted his head. "Do you plan to kill them too so that they can't work their way through the challenges and trials to return the world to what it was before they were disposed of so horribly?"
Snarva made a rude noise in his throat but kept a safe distance from the stationmaster. "I still think it's a waste of time, stationmaster." he heaved a loud sigh. "However, you made your point," Snarva conceded. "I shall seek out the perpetrators who meddled with this scenario so badly." He shook his head and frowned. "Where did all the problems begin?"
The stationmaster just regarded him with annoyed silence. "Earth, just a small speck in the microcosm of the various universes that make up this spatial society." He shrugged. "Good luck finding it. All the others, Jarm, Freld, and Dulath, just dragged the people out of thin air. They didn't even bother finding the proper coordinates."
Snarva winced. "So, you're telling me they've all been scattered to different places within Javelin?"
The stationmaster shook his head. "Nope, they were sent to different worlds other than this one. Those ones, they'll be lucky to survive one minute." His expression was indifferent. "None of them are connected here."
Snarva threw his hands into the air, muttering inaudibly and cursing the troublemakers. Of course, they'd be the ones to mess things up, so why not? They weren't the ones cleaning up the debris left in the wake of their mischief.
*
City: Ravelin, Continent Truven, World Javelin
With the storm beginning to pound the coastline, Hanlon Cozen, the author's chosen name, could start to integrate into the citizenry. It had taken him the better part of an entire day to arrive in Ravelin. However, in doing so, Hanlon was able to get registered and would soon depart for his first mission. While loitering around in the main square, Hanlon recognized the voices and faces of people he'd hoped never to encounter in this world. Dammed game creators. Weren't they supposed to have gone to other worlds? So why had they wound up here as well? Someone certainly was determined to entirely destroy this world. Hanlon shook his head in aggravation.
Finally, he chose to go to a small dinner. Hanlon discovered it was likely a popular gathering point for adventurous explorers. This was great because it meant he could pick up the latest gossip and rumors, which would give him pointers on what to avoid in the future.
Ironically, he'd nearly run into Conroy and Kenneth, whom he recognized as Colton Malta and Kellen, but managed to avoid them. They were quietly talking with someone named Lancer Oljan. Hanlon made a point of remembering the man's face and status within the city. He appeared to be an NPC worth keeping track of in the future. Gradually, they passed from his echelon and vanished down another road away from that diner.
He preferred to eat alone anyway, so it didn't bother him much. Hanlon would contact them when he had sufficient abilities to make his way through this world. He should warn them about the game's creators having surfaced in this world. Nah, they'd figured it out soon enough. Those two were a pretty tight duo, and when they combined their brains, they made an unbeatable team.
Now, Hanlon Cozen glanced around the small gatehouse at the western gate of Ravelin. He'd made it safely despite nearly drowning twice when scared citizens in an outpost. Unfortunately, the Lowenstein outpost leader, Kaladan, had believed he'd be one of the Snarwhallian hybrids. He'd almost killed Hanlon on sight.
That forced Hanlon to escape while remaining healthy and all limbs intact. If he couldn't shift his appearance on a dime to mimic other townspeople, Hanlon would've died on the spot. He shook his head. After gathering a few basic supplies, he left the outpost without further issue. That had been a damned close call, though.
Hanlon ruminated over what he had discovered to that point. Technically, he'd been one of them until writing his new species into the reality of the cloth of this world.
A sigh escaped Hanlon. At least I have real hands, arms, legs, and feet, unlike before. That's an improvement. His body still had vestigial webbing. That wasn't going to go away, but Hanlon didn't mind.
Now that he was something else entirely, he could walk about as usual. That also meant that Hanlon managed to avoid being recognized as a hated alien. Hah, now to make his way to the area of the first mission departure in an hour or two.