Scene #3498: Traitors to the Way of the World

Owner	Pose
Nox	It's a pretty rare occasion, perhaps even the first of its kind, that Nox outright lets someone into this particular place. At least if he isn't intending to kill them anyways. /What/ particular place exactly might be a little bit difficult to guess for a couple of moments, but Lezard is a smart man. He'll figure it out quickly. The lighting is dim and uneven, cast into a deep, twilight hue by reflection after reflection across the endless expanses of weathered brass and gold a surrounding him, every surface made of some metal or another, until the air smells deeply of the inside of a newly cast bell, tinged with a faintly chemical, electrical scent, as if someone had been working on circuits in the same place. There aren't any to be found out, as the constant churning, rumbling, and rhythmic ticking echoing around the cavernous space attests to, resounding from an innumerable multitude of gears, axles, pistons, springs, hammers, tracks and other such strictly analogue mechanica, visible even in the shadows from the constant, unmistakable silhouettes of precisely measured teeth. The majority of the massive 'room' is empty, though it is clearly meant to be with the number of platforms that slide about on mechanized rails or are exchanged to and fro by automated manipulators, carrying about tools and parts and unrecognizable machinery just as often as oddly out of place raw materials from somewhere outside, judging by the brief beams of sunlight that shoot through the floor. Buzzing punctuates the otherwise perfectly rhythmic background din as a swarm of glowing blue dots whiz high overhead, diving straight into a series of chutes with a mechanical counter overhead steadily ticking into the tens of thousands. Since Nox is allowing teleportation from outside for this brief period of time, it follows that it doesn't take him more than a moment to notice it, and to arrive in the same place, flickering into existence a polite distance straight ahead of where Lezard arrives, arms folded behind his back as usual. "And good evening to you, Sorcerer of Midgard, they like to call you, yes? I appreciate you taking time away for such an incredible vague request, but I believe you'll appreciate what I have to show you in turn."
Lezard Valeth	Lezard accepted the invitation at face value, not really expecting any kind of betrayal. He estimates that such an efficiency-minded magus as Nox has better things to do with his time and effort. But it's really not so much where as when and how. Lezard is quite experienced with spatial manipulation, but time distortions, casual or otherwise, are outside of his reach. Nevertheless, for the moment the path is open. The traditional teleportation circle that heralds Lezard's arrival appears, the Sorceror of Midgard fading into existence. His eyes flick to one side and the other, immediately attempting to take the alien surroundings in. His senses tingle with the shifting of shadowy forces at play in this place... And then Nox arrives. At the polite greeting, Lezard bows himself, flourishing with his cape. "A pleasure to meet with you, Magus Nox." He straightens, and smiles. "I always have time to meet with those with power and vision. So to what business may we attend?"
Nox	"Vision." Nox makes it sound like the part where someone would normally trail off thoughtfully, while still being a little too professional to actually do it. "Au contraire, I'd asked to meet with you after hearing a bit of your own. The business we attend to is yours, or more precisely, how my business may also very well be your business." His tone loses some of its faintly jovial curtness as he speaks next, becoming immediately more somber. "And I pray that you might be the first in a very long time to understand why." The atmosphere seems to change quite suddenly at that. It's difficult to quantify why, especially when talking to someone with no facial expression or body language, but things don't seem to be about to return to a friendly visit and a chat between villains after that, like after an unguarded slip. As the section of platform, identifiable by the perimeter of concentric gears stacked upon one another, detaches from the rest, carried aloft remarkably smoothly with an exchange of robotic arms powered by wind-up keys that never seem to loose tension, Nox makes no effort to cover up or reestablish a more casual setting; continuing in earnest, almost tired, seriousness. "I've heard all about your lady Valkyrie, Lezard. As a lot of people have. As they've all had time to call you obsessed or insane or doomed to fail, because they refuse to believe such a thing is possible. When I talk to you about this Lezard; when I show you this, consider it the same as if you were to bear to me all you've done, and all you will do, for your goddess. Speak of it selectively, if at all." The platform ascends all the way to the very height of the goliath chamber, Nox remaining perpetually fixed in place a foot above it, even as it is made to tilt and rotate by degrees, until it fits into a circular slot in the ceiling, and the spinning gears of its exterior cause it to rise through the shaft elevator-like, passing what must be several floors before coming out into another equally mysterious cavern. Characterized by walls upon walls of jewellers lenses, varying in size from one practical for actual use, to the dimensions of a large window, set in innumerable rows that tinkle constantly as hundreds of spindly manipulators remove and exchange them, if this is the interior of the giant clock, it's far, far bigger on the inside than even its already impressive exterior. "I think that you know very well how it works Lezard. What you mean when you say 'vision'. Not the 'heroic' desire to prevent things from changing, or to change something to be the way it used to be, or even the way that something else already is. The desire to change everything in a way that it cannot. In a way that it should not. To do something that everyone will claim is impossible, or if they entertain the idea for even a moment, decide that it should be made impossible if it already isn't." "You asked me before, why I would settle for so little from the Shajem. Why I would be content to make so little use from it, when I seemed to you like I wasn't one of your allies who will settle for power for the sake of it. You assumed I had my reasons, and I take it you assumed they must have been acceptable ones. What if I were to tell you that there is only one? I've begun to wonder, would you recognize why the most valuable thing those creatures could have possible done, was to die? Would you believe that the reason I need so little from anything, is that I already know exactly what to do? I've never doubted your intelligence, Lezard, but being intelligent isn't what it takes to understand this. I would very much like for you to prove to me that you have what is really needed."
Lezard Valeth	"You will, of course, have my discretion." Lezard does not respond immediately beyond that. The motion of the platform and the time that they travel allows him to listen to Nox's continuation. He watches the being carefully. There is a glance, and a faint stiffening as Lezard considers the behavior of the being next to him. There are flickers of recognition on his face as Nox makes his opening commentary... And then a faint jolt of recognition, a widening of the eyes as a realization crystallizes in his mind, and there is a thin, faint smile. He turns and looks out into the mechanical hall, upon the massive arrays of lenses, and nods faintly. "IF one is dedicated to a single goal and knows of the path to achieve it, then one needs nothing else but to meet the needs of that path. The end goal becomes paramount, and one need strive only to make that path as direct as possible."
Nox	"That's all I can absolutely ask of you, for the moment." Nox intones, soundlessly turning in place to face ahead as the platform continues; the bow of a ship coursing the tides of perfectly timed mechanical conveyance, lifted, turned, and swapped over, again and again, climbing through what feels like, and what might very well be, miles upon miles of clockwork, until finally it arrives in one, penultimate chamber; smaller than the others, though still expansive, set over a drop too deep to fully see the bottom of, suspended beneath an enormous glass key of the kind a watchmaker would use to tighten extremely fine components, and eventually, straight ahead of a section of wall bearing the frame of a complete timekeeping mechanism. Extruded from the interior boundary is the full face of a dark, opaquely metallic clock dial, numbered appropriately and calibrated with engravings of celestial movements, though only a sun and moon are immediately recognizable, cast between three hands. Nox regards the sheer surface briefly, before reluctantly flicking out his hand, a palpable discharge of magic going into the machine as the three hands begin to spin, turning over several times as they settle on various combinations of numbers, before the entire thing detaches and rolls aside like the door of a gargantuan vault. Behind it is yet another, comprised of signs of the zodiac, and then another, according to the lunar phases, and yet another, each one rolling aside with complex manipulation of the time told on them. Each time one does, the level of ambient magic intensifies ten times over, though the platform remains waiting outside and goes no closer, leaking through the multiple layers of sealing placed over it. At first it simply feels like standing on an especially dense leyline somewhere, then a prized nexus, then somewhere in the divine realm, and then finally it becomes outright choking, condensing in the air as a kind of fine, ghastly blueish mist, tiny embers of raw energy crackling in and out of existence all around. Beyond the final door is one, much smaller room, slate grey and unadorned, save for some complex radial array of channels dug into the floor, and host to only a single feature. A pedestal at its geometric centre, comprised of significantly more complex machinery than any seen thus far, connecting a sprawling mass of spider-like, multi-jointed limbs of clockwork that constantly swivel to and fro, back and forth, endlessly drawing that glowing blue substance through visible conduits and extruding it through fine droppers, syringes and coils. The entire mechanism seems only to exist to service the prize sat atop it, gently floating within a sphere of incandescent force; a stark, almost featureless cube of the same iridescent teal colour, each face engraved with an infinitely recursive, inward whorl, and split apart at the seams so that they don't quite fully enclose the white-hot core visible within. "This, is my Ragnarok, Lezard. This is how I will right everything."
Lezard Valeth	Lezard's expression seems to be fairly neutral at that response, as if he is not sure he met Nox's expectations, fell short, or surpassed them. For the moment, he seems to not really have much to say to that. Patience, however, is a virtue, and Lezard contents himself with observing the fantastic constructions around him that grow ever more complicated, the purposes of which range from instantly apparent to his mind to completely foreign. Regardless, the Sorceror of Midgard looks upon the sealed vault and arches an eyebrow, the puzzling nature of the lock both obvious and impenetrable. It's abundantly clear that it would take one of similar talents to Nox himself to win entry. It's when the gates begin to open that he immediately begins to intake breath. He can obviously feel the rampantly increasing radiation of energy coming from behind those doors... And as the final barriers drop, 'energy' becomes too quaint and meaningless a word. Power, by its purest, essential definition. There is an instant that a deep hunger flickers across Lezard's face before it is mastered, and he shudders, staring forward. "This... This is the tool by which you will attain your goal? The energy here would be enough to accomplish almost anything you could wish several times..." He pauses, his eyes narrowing. "... No. Unless, as you said, one considers what is imposible by definition... But such things are only 'impossible' because they are too limited to conceive of what is necessary to accomplish such tasks." Wrenching his eyes off of the incredible glory before him, he looks to Nox, his gaze intent. "What it is that you wish to make right must be inconceivable to many."
Nox	Here, Nox isn't even teleporting. He glides forth, sliding through space at the pace of a human's walking speed, slowly drifting off to the side to look upon the strange and alien artifact. "You are correct. This . . . object. This cube; is the key by which anything is possible. I still don't know where it came from, exactly. Even the decrepit old beast that claimed to be its guardian had no idea of its true power, or even how it works, and so I might be the only one alive who knows anything about it, even considering the gods. For two hundred years I've worked with it. Studied it. Used it. Engineered it. I'm the only one who can, and through doing so, I've come to understand more than any xelor ever has or ever will. Though it took more than a lifetime and should have killed me a hundred times to do it, by now I know it more or less inside out, and so I speak with confidence when I say this." "The cube is infinite. It is a limitless channel of energy, both in its depth and its width. There is no theoretical maximum to the amount of power it could use at once. As long as one understands the method, there are no constraints on the means. Not even the Twelve could claim to be capable of the same." He reaches out towards the artifact, an arc of cerulean lightning briefly forming between his hand and the field surrounding the object, and the room is suddenly awash in light as a twinkling universe of hovering stars erupts from it, fanning out like the wings of some great goddess. Most of them resolve into images, still and live, of hundreds, if not thousands of different places, most fairly mundane, but scattered as if over a great many different worlds. One of them resolves into the interior of a house, quaint and domestic, where a woman silently plays with her three children by an open back door overlooking the seaside. His gaze remains fixed on them from then on. "I had something, and then I lost it, by making a terrible mistake. It was such a simple one. One that any sane world would allow anyone a second chance. But I didn't get one. There was no opportunity to fix it; no possibility of making up for it, and so I decided that the world itself was at fault. I chose to go against Xelor, that old deceitful fool, and his tyranny over what we have to accept is 'too late'. I'm going to do it all over again, Lezard. To have them again, to fix every injustice that time has ever perpetrated, I'll wind back the clock the whole two hundred years, and nobody outside this clock will ever even remember. Even the dragon, so called keeper of the cube, told me it isn't possible, and yet 'madman' and 'fool' that I am, I did it anyways once before." He finally tears his eyes away to look back to Lezard. "It wasn't enough. The tree of life was worth a paltry twenty minutes. The power demands to rewind time; not to travel through it or reset a single world, but to rewind /time itself/, are staggering. I need much more power this time. Much, much more that existed on my old world, but which the multiverse has in abundance. I don't care what it takes to get it; none of it will have even mattered in the end, because none of it will have even happened. How would that sound to you, Lezard? Would you like to take the voyage with me? To be a passenger to a stop of your choosing in your world's history, with everything you know and have now? To take that chance again for your Lady Valkyrie. as ten times the man you ever were back then?"
Lezard Valeth	Lezard follows, walking quietly into the chamber behind Nox to observe the Eliacube in detail, to hear the words that he speaks to enlighten Lezard to the nature of his struggle. He looks from the Eliacube, to Nox, and then back to the cube once more. "To witness such an event. To unravel the skeins of Time itself, and write the pages anew. To spit in the eyes of laws that even the Gods themselves dare not touch..." There is a moment of silence, and then he closes his eyes, emitting a low chuckle. "Indeed, they would have said many things to you, and more besides. 'Blasphemer', I wager. 'Murderer', 'Villain'. You know what it is to stain one's soul, even if they cannot accept what it means to chase such a goal." His eyes open, and he looks to Nox. "My tale may not be the same as yours, but in determination, in our nature, we are very much alike." There is a silence for a moment. "I never would have imagined among all the Multiverse to find one such as you. I cannot ignore your call. I will answer it. While I do not seek to undo what I have done, I will help you with your voyage. Any needs I may have would be insignificant, comparatively."
Nox	Half a minute after Lezard's show of dry amusement, Nox is prompted to one of his own, his somber tone broken just slightly by old, cynical kinship. "Of course. Ultimately, it stops meaning anything very, very quickly. None of them have any idea of what they're talking about, and their opinions, and their compliance, don't mean anything in the end, especially when they themselves are working to ensure that everything they claim to oppose me for remains permanent. That much hasn't changed in the transition to the multiverse, whether they be humans, dragons, gods, or anything else. I see I may have been very much right to trust you knew the same." "That said, I understand you have your own reasons, but the undoing needn't be the whole thing. Surely there was at least one time when something went wrong, someone got in your way, or a much better choice would have been available to you had only you known? At the very least, what trouble is it really to re-live a year or two for someone who cannot die? Applying hindsight as foresight is a powerful opportunity, and charity is hardly . . . hm, no matter. Even aside from that, you have a number of gods you want dead, and even should you somehow fail, you would be perfectly capable of trying again, or trying something else, when I succeed, no? On that much alone there is already no reason not to cooperate." The swirling galaxy of images winks out, all at once, like a stiff wind through the door snuffing out all the candles of a vigil. The room returns to its throbbing, electric-blue twilight. "Think on the offer as it suits you. Amassing fuel for the cube is an exponential process. The more I have, the more I can bring to bear on greater targets of opportunity. For the time being, I assume you'll know them when you see them, and thus can count on my assistance wherever I am able. We will see how things develop."
Lezard Valeth	The arguments are cogent ones. Lezard nods. "Indeed. I have gods I wish dead, and you require more energy. I believe we can arrange a method in which we both get what we want. I will happily feed you the lot of my pantheon... But for Lenneth, of course. She is mine." What that might mean is an irrelevant exercise for others to discover later. He folds his arms, considering for a moment, before turning to Nox. "This will be a meeting that will tear asunder heaven and earth in its making. Worlds will shudder at our passing, only for it to be lost in the echoes of a time that will be no more." He chuckles again, perhaps considering the potential horrors of a temporal distortion on such a scale. "I will provide you with any and all assistance that I can marshal. You have the word of Lezard Valeth in this matter." He turns and offers a hand. "The future... And past, will be ours."