Private A Little Bit of Bedlam

[Onrai]

Spindle

Bedlam

A barren world, Bedlam was. Aside from the insane asylum, where the irreparably broken cases of the galaxy found themselves confined, there was nothing here but the strangeness of items brought out of time and space. Ruins and wreckage that should never have been there at all, yet it was. Most notably, however, Bedlam was the site of one of the strangest manifestations of a supernatural entity in the history of the galaxy: the infamous Bedlam Spirits, who had appeared once and never been seen again.

But Onrai knew better.

There were secrets to be uncovered here. Answers to be obtained. The question was only what she would have to sacrifice in order to achieve them.

And who else came along for the ride.

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Onrai

The planet of Bedlam was a curious place. From the curious spirits that called the world home to those locked into more of a forced residence, the planet was no stranger to the strange and unusual. Spindle herself fit in one or more of those categories, depending on who one asked. But rather than check herself into an institution or claim a space within ranks of nearly all-powerful beings (though she'd hardly object if such were the case), the paper-thin shadow of a woman looked to the world with great curiosity.

There was knowledge to be gleamed from the insane. Power, too, if one knew where or how to look.

One way or another, Spindle would find whatever there was to find.

 

[Onrai]

Spindle

Onrai was not alone.

The experiences that had brought her to this point, to the same place where the cursed children of Wutzek first defied their masters and left a world of madness, their first plaything in millennia of galactic torment that soon led to their demise or disappearance from the galaxy, were unlikely anything else. Some, as Ap'aci had, realized their sins. Others, such as the Soulworm herself, had damned themselves to eternal destruction. Even now, the words of the foul creature perambulated across the time-scorched rubble of the forbidden planet.

Foul spawn of the deep void; brood of the blackest gulfs, you have been brought forth into this realm with a purpose. Go forth then, conquer and destroy all who will not serve me."

They were not Onrai's words, but the words of the Onrai who had come before her. The "true" false goddess of humanity and the countless other species she had sought to turn to her worship. That and much more was to be learned, were one to ever seek to tap the temporal ripples within the very fabric of Bedlam.

But for now, it was time to make her appearance.

The shadows of the wasteland seemed to coalesce near the Maw witch, their inky blackness regurgitating into an almost fluidic female form, the white eyes of which soon beckoned to the woman. "You come to Bedlam. You are not insane, which can only mean you wish to learn the knowledge of what exists, existed, and will exist. I am Onrai, Queen of the Stars and Architect of all things. If you wish answers to the questions locked away within your soul, call upon me as your guide and an answer will emerge to you - whether it is what you wish to hear or not is a question in and of itself."

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Onrai

Spindle drew back as tar turned to form, one hand raised as if to shield herself at a moment's notice, the other drifting to her side, within quick reach of the various tools and instruments at her side. White eyes among ink met black eyes among paper-pale, nearly inverses of each other. Her head tilted a fraction as the inked woman, this Onrai, spoke. "You assume much, Architect, though I'm curious as to what questions you claim to be locked away."

A thin brow rose as she spoke, blackened fingers moving to brush wayward strands of hair from her eyes. "And the price of such knowledge, too." Nothing was ever free, not really. Many a time Spindle had seen herself on one side or the other of a transaction. There was a give and take to everything and she'd be a fool not to assume even knowledge was freely given. Nay, more often than not, knowledge was held to the highest of prices.

"Do all creatures here make such brazen of claims?"

 

[Onrai]

“This world is an imperfection within the universe, placed just perfectly by the pulsar that it is not scorched clean of life by the sun spraying its nuclear ichor. And yet, it is not free of aberration - time is disrupted here. The world would be a treasure trove of archaeology if the chaos were not so wildly spread, Miss Hedairi.” The shade raised a hand, the blink of the pulsar shining overhead a reminder of the irregularities of the world.

“Within your heart lies an ever-present query - why? It drives your urge to study, to experiment. To travel to a forgotten world like this, a world whose population are almost all madmen that certainly aren’t helped by the veil of reality being so thinned. In some cases, you receive the answer, but in others, you divine the answer yourself - often ‘why not?’ when it comes to experiments. As for cost…”

Onrai pointed towards a helmet, practically petrified, that sat upon the ground before slowly being levitated up and traveling over to her hand. On closer inspection, the helmet was a stormtrooper’s, likely of the Galactic Empire many years ago. Looking in the bottom of the helmet revealed the base of a skull still lodged within it. “I ask only that you acknowledge despite their destruction, despite all that has occurred over the millennia, that there is still a goddess who cares for mortals. One known under many names, but who only asks for a prayer so that those who supplicate themselves may receive blessings.”

To the last comments of of Spindle’s, Onrai laughed. “Only those who can fulfill it and those who understand they can. I’m not going to talk about throwing a shape, or how I ostensibly created the world, or how Splendid Ap is stupid. This world is where a critical point of our galaxy’s story begins.”

Spindle