The players in Anarchy Online, that are playing the Meta-Physicist class, organized an event called Black Sunday to protest the sorry state that the class is in. To coincide with the event, I started a role-playing thread to provide some back story for this event.
Here’s my contribution to the RP thread:
A Meta-Physical Calling
Late at night, Votary was laying in bed in his modest apartment at the westest side of West Athen. He picked the most remote apartment he could find so when night falls it would be quiet.
He was just pondering about himself, and his progress as a meta-physicist. Ever since his awakening to become a meta-physcist from his mining days, he has worked hard and long to become the best that he could be. He found ways to augment his abilities to be on par with his nanomage, solitus and opifex meta-physicist friends. He trained hard and spent long hours reading ancient meta-physical texts. He knew he was one of the best meta-physcists at his point in the path.
This night, he was pondering even more. His path might soon come to an end. Soon he will be able to summon the mightiest demon that a meta-physicst has ever summoned on the planet of Rubi-Ka. He already possessed the most devastating nano programs a meta-physicst could have and could execute them with ease. He was frustrated. He was also scared. What if that was it for his metaphysical stuides? After his mining accident and the awakening, he has been very clear in what he wanted to do with his Atrox life. But then recently, he was not so sure anymore.
He slowly drifted into sleep. Between the half awake and half asleep state, where you couldn’t tell whether something was real or something was in your dream, he heard a voice. A voice inside his skull. His tatoo on his temples started to itch, then burn. He couldn’t make out what the voice was saying but one word.
He struggled to get up, but he couldn’t. His arms and legs seem to weigh a thousand men. He could not open his eyes. He could not turn his head. He could not even wiggle his fingers or toes. He was stuck at the limbo between the real world and the dream world.
The voice kept whipsering and mumbling inside his skull. “Shadows” was all he could understand. Then the voice became two, and the two voices became four. Not even a tick after, thousands and millions of voices were mumbling “shadows” in his head. He wanted to scream, but he could not. He wanted to open his mouth to gasp for air. He could not. He was overwhelmed with terror. What was happening to him? He did not know.
Instead, he remembered his studies. He focused lire sur cette page. He channeled his emotions. He refocused them. He manipulated the nanobots in his body with pure willpower. He activated them without even a single movement with his hands. He was no longer scared. Instead, he was then angered. He was angry at the voices. He was angry at whatever was doing this to him. His anger then turned into rage. From rage they turned into wrath. His emotions kept elevating. They fought with the voices, which made them even louder. They thundered Votary’s skull. He felt his temples were about to burst wide open. Beads of sweat ran down from his forehead. Veins were showing up all over his muscular body. Veins that were black and purple.
Suddenly, the voices stopped. Or did they all become one? He heard one voice, and one voice only. Was it a male voice, or a female voice? Or was it two voices? One male and one female, overlapping each other.
“On the second Sunday of June, the month of the balanced, you must show the same prowess you have demonstrated to me, to all others. Join your fellow pilgrims of the path, and a new path shall be shown in front of you.”
The moment the voice stopped, he opened his eyes. He could move again. Everything was normal then, just the same as every night at West Athen. He did not move even though he could, for a good half an hour after that ordeal. What was it? Who was it? He did not know. Though he did not question. He knew what he had to do. He no longer was frustrated. He no longer was scared. He had a mission and he planned to fulfill it.
He got out of bed, grunted at the now soaked bedsheets. He gazed at the three moons and prayed. He pondered what is in front of him. Emotions of frustration and terror are now filled with excitement. He could not wait.