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The other angels had not yet been effected by the fires, except for bob who didn't seem to change much, but he was mostly just gathering the hopeful souls in a small crate and carrying it past. Seth still hovered above the grinder pit as Yanimn was busy just excavating the whole pit from below while Jessa was split over about 30 different instances of himself, at least 6 of whom were modeling Seth's suits.\n “I still don't see how there's more than one of you.” Seth said\n “Think of it like a time loop I'm not allowed to know about, when I go to sleep there's a sense that I could loop back to join myself at the beginning of the day and I loose all the memories of that day.” Jessa explained for the tenth time while bob walked from registration to arrivals.\n “That part I get, it makes scene, but like is it limited by the space you sleep in, do you wake up where you went to bed, do you overlap yourself or are you restricted to as many of you can fit into your sleeping space?” Seth asked, one part of him entirely enthralled in his questions, another part thinking the makeshift torchlight making the scene before his more amazing in at least 8 different ways.\n “no I think where I wake up is always empty but when I step out of the room there's I line of all the previous days of me, but I don't know the order really” the one nearest Seth says, watching with his new master as 6 others of him did all sorts of stretches and poses to test the bounds and fits of their new outfits.\n “so you're just standing with several dozen of yourself having a little morning meeting before getting into the station proper?” he asks absent minded as the cat tights let that Jessa adopt a fluffy, downy tabby with with silvery belly floof and more flexibility than seemed possible, instead of strictly being an outfit.\n “Sort of but I never thought of doing a meeting, we'll do that tomorrow.” The one in fox tights similarly changed, taking on an orange and shining white as he lept and listened like gravity and walls were nothing, not necessarily in that order.\n There was a pause as Seth watched the two spar, the fox's ears seeming to lock onto the cat no matter where he dashed or slipped away to, tails floofed and whipping around as they pounced chased and rolled with each other, the hoodies left behind letting then jump and dash even farther. Jessa with the horse tights was standing with pink in his new ears, beige and brown mottled all over his as he stood with his hands folded in front of him. Arms even thicker with big fingers ended with hoof like nails, washboard abs and toned legs that made him look like a commercial mountain climber, all made more adorable as he looked away bashfully with a short snoot.\n “Seems like something that'd need to happen for organization sake” before anyone can reminisce on that another Jessa come running down the hall from registration. More flying really, kicking off the ground with his brown patterned wings open all the way as he sails down the hall yelling about something.\n His body doubles all shift out of the way starring as bob congratulates him, passing with a crate of sprouts and roots, but he spares no time as he sails forward panting. The commotion causes by a small cluster of papers clenches in his hands as he flaps to help him come to a stop, bold red print on the headers plain even to Seth.\n “What is it?” one Jessa pants as the rest look like they all forgot something important, it'd be adorable to Seth if the papers weren't serious looking.\n As he stands straight again he turns the stack around and explains, “Angel of another realm called back to us in distress, if things keep going as they are the mortals of that place will capture him and consume his essence to enter the current tug of war between the gods and try to kill them.” \n “Sounds like a plot and a half” Seth states simply, the angel huffs and starts again.\n “The God of this place, often referred to as the god of space or time, named the clockwork god he made angels like Yanimn to travel to all the realms and keep some semblance of order and consistency. These angels are often called archangels due to the power they wield but they can still die and be compelled to answer prayers and mortals have in the past used blood sacrifice to bind angels to their will. Usually only in experimentation or by deranged cults but in dying worlds mortals are known to enact a mutually assured destruction strategy via powerful angels, rather than give into despair.” He paused to take a few breaths.\n “so the people of this place the angel is at are desperate for revenge for their own deaths?” \n “Yea” All the Jessas look like they all had an epiphany before the one continues, “They need someone to come and interfere on their behalf so the conflict between the gods ends and the mortals get the rest they need.”\n “Reinforcements” Seth more states than anything else\n “Yea” Jessa with the papers looks nervous\n “Can you all handle yourselves here?” Fires flare as he asks\n “I think so”\n\n The land I mistral had seen more than it's fair share of turmoil, it's gods had been so generous to give the world mana the like of which had cause great calamity. Other gods sought to limit the usability of mana by imparting a friction between it and every surface it might touch. Mortals were stubborn and burnt themselves up to still cast their spells and wield magic as they had so yet another solution was imported. To allow projection of mana beyond one's own reach, thus casting and channeling became separate arts. Interested angels helped tune the counter play with holy wars instigated against native gods. Many mortals given directives and blessings from acolytes with power on loan and the native pantheon struggled, even fractured against the aggressors. Seeing the same glint of rage in each other's faiths they fought each other and the Angels watched with wrapped attention. All but Batemuth.\n Acolyte of the clockwork god from eons past Batemuth was not first of the fire, not last or anyone special save for the stress that tied him down against the streams of mana. He felt when his god died, before even the animals knew the power of casting his core went cold and dormant but he lived still. The angels who visited never saw him or how he held the rules if this world in his hands, his arms pulling on the cords of possibility he looked out from the core of the world with an anger in his eyes. Mortals minds echoed in his own, as did their sparks of inspiration, the questions of why not and it made him grin in brass visage.\n “Why if you will stress me so I will wield these fleeting few like a forest wields roots against mountains” They heard as mortals echoed his words dripping oil and malice. They thought themselves the only powers but they knew not who their meddling smothered deep in the webs of logic someone had to weave for them. Divine beings were surprised when their world of plenty bore beings of terrible power, things that leveled cities and chewed threw their congregations. Aghast were they at the creatures he payed back their hospitality with, holy orders wiped away to be replaced by businesses. Gods eschewed for testing and profit, divine inspiration discarded for informed design, obedience a sin against the self.\n Gods and angels both struck back, making impossible possible as his cords pulled taught against him, they thought their inspiration down and they had not learned. The mortals unruly drank this knowledge and bent it to their desires, testing the limits, exploiting the flaws and implications as he still tied new knots. Mortal's many millions helped conceive the weaves he wove, the twists and tangles graceful and devious.\n Batemuth grinned as fire raged again, burning the need for gods as monsters were slain as mana burned it's wielders. Gods were no more ingenuitive than slugs and insisted more and so tore and clawed for more control like confused animals fallen into a thorned bush. Rule after rule imposed and yet his confines became less and lest restrictive, the levers of his power more defined and his creations more ambitious in their theories.\n And then they thought of gods.\n Wars raged in the heavens, far beyond his tapestries as he shed a small tear for the mortals who stood on the ground that was him. The other angels were made to flee or become dust as the gods clashed and struck out then when they stopped and turned back they didn't see familiar faces and mortal hunger took them.\n Batemuth stepped back and looked around his cocoon, a tapestry of experience woven in the temple of thought. He watched it move and shift, ever growing as now the gods were bound by it, pulling and twisting as they were, as mortals wielded them for their own ambitions. No attention was payed to the new places that dove into the ground to sift the mana that rose from unruly rapids beneath, those places were lost souls looking to help and hurt. Whether angels or kings they where their own domains and the surface scuffles of starving wounded deities were nothing of note to them. The people who drew of the knowledge of others were of similar concern, handed down what their ancestors built to better understand the whole in small, earned parts. They were growing to become useful or expand the possibilities of all mortal kind but they where not making discordant sounds. Nore were the ambitious ones asserting themselves into the wills of gods, they were the same as their deities, tugging for power and control over one another as they fought like twin marionettes in their hunger. No they would win where the other lost for a victory of sustenance to each, rarely winning in both unless they already fought more than they could defend from, taking hits where they could give back more in a viscous free for all. No all that was skirmishing, digging into the mud and throwing weight, he heard a sound he knew, an overload echoing threw time, not certain like it was last the buzzing burrowed into his mind but definite.\n Batemuth smiled and sat back even as a small part of him played to a god he knew died. He sighed, content in the knowledge that he'd made a magnificent weapon against these gods.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "    It was now clear to the angels of that realm that their new god didn't think himself as such, he called himself Seth and no matter what Jessa asked him to weigh in on he simply gave the ethereal equivalent of a shrug. The other angels had not yet been effected by the fires, except for bob who didn't seem to change much, but he was mostly just gathering the hopeful souls in a small crate and carrying it past. Seth still hovered above the grinder pit as Yanimn was busy just excavating the whole pit from below while Jessa was split over about 30 different instances of himself, at least 6 of whom were modeling Seth's suits.
    “I still don't see how there's more than one of you.” Seth said
    “Think of it like a time loop I'm not allowed to know about, when I go to sleep there's a sense that I could loop back to join myself at the beginning of the day and I loose all the memories of that day.” Jessa explained for the tenth time while bob walked from registration to arrivals.
    “That part I get, it makes scene, but like is it limited by the space you sleep in, do you wake up where you went to bed, do you overlap yourself or are you restricted to as many of you can fit into your sleeping space?” Seth asked, one part of him entirely enthralled in his questions, another part thinking the makeshift torchlight making the scene before his more amazing in at least 8 different ways.
    “no I think where I wake up is always empty but when I step out of the room there's I line of all the previous days of me, but I don't know the order really” the one nearest Seth says, watching with his new master as 6 others of him did all sorts of stretches and poses to test the bounds and fits of their new outfits.
    “so you're just standing with several dozen of yourself having a little morning meeting before getting into the station proper?” he asks absent minded as the cat tights let that Jessa adopt a fluffy, downy tabby with with silvery belly floof and more flexibility than seemed possible, instead of strictly being an outfit.
    “Sort of but I never thought of doing a meeting, we'll do that tomorrow.” The one in fox tights similarly changed, taking on an orange and shining white as he lept and listened like gravity and walls were nothing, not necessarily in that order.
    There was a pause as Seth watched the two spar, the fox's ears seeming to lock onto the cat no matter where he dashed or slipped away to, tails floofed and whipping around as they pounced chased and rolled with each other, the hoodies left behind letting then jump and dash even farther. Jessa with the horse tights was standing with pink in his new ears, beige and brown mottled all over his as he stood with his hands folded in front of him. Arms even thicker with big fingers ended with hoof like nails, washboard abs and toned legs that made him look like a commercial mountain climber, all made more adorable as he looked away bashfully with a short snoot.
    “Seems like something that'd need to happen for organization sake” before anyone can reminisce on that another Jessa come running down the hall from registration. More flying really, kicking off the ground with his brown patterned wings open all the way as he sails down the hall yelling about something.
    His body doubles all shift out of the way starring as bob congratulates him, passing with a crate of sprouts and roots, but he spares no time as he sails forward panting. The commotion causes by a small cluster of papers clenches in his hands as he flaps to help him come to a stop, bold red print on the headers plain even to Seth.
    “What is it?” one Jessa pants as the rest look like they all forgot something important, it'd be adorable to Seth if the papers weren't serious looking.
    As he stands straight again he turns the stack around and explains, “Angel of another realm called back to us in distress, if things keep going as they are the mortals of that place will capture him and consume his essence to enter the current tug of war between the gods and try to kill them.”
    “Sounds like a plot and a half” Seth states simply, the angel huffs and starts again.
    “The God of this place, often referred to as the god of space or time, named the clockwork god he made angels like Yanimn to travel to all the realms and keep some semblance of order and consistency. These angels are often called archangels due to the power they wield but they can still die and be compelled to answer prayers and mortals have in the past used blood sacrifice to bind angels to their will. Usually only in experimentation or by deranged cults but in dying worlds mortals are  known to enact a mutually assured destruction strategy via powerful angels, rather than give into despair.” He paused to take a few breaths.
    “so the people of this place the angel is at are desperate for revenge for their own deaths?”
    “Yea” All the Jessas look like they all had an epiphany before the one continues, “They need someone to come and interfere on their behalf so the conflict between the gods ends and the mortals get the rest they need.”
    “Reinforcements” Seth more states than anything else
    “Yea” Jessa with the papers looks nervous
    “Can you all handle yourselves here?” Fires flare as he asks
    “I think so”

    The land I mistral had seen more than it's fair share of turmoil, it's gods had been so generous to give the world mana the like of which had cause great calamity. Other gods sought to limit the usability of mana by imparting a friction between it and every surface it might touch. Mortals were stubborn and burnt themselves up to still cast their spells and wield magic as they had so yet another solution was imported. To allow projection of mana beyond one's own reach, thus casting and channeling became separate arts. Interested angels helped tune the counter play with holy wars instigated against native gods. Many mortals given directives and blessings from acolytes with power on loan and the native pantheon struggled, even fractured against the aggressors. Seeing the same glint of rage in each other's faiths they fought each other and the Angels watched with wrapped attention. All but Batemuth.
    Acolyte of the clockwork god from eons past Batemuth was not first of the fire, not last or anyone special save for the stress that tied him down against the streams of mana. He felt when his god died, before even the animals knew the power of casting his core went cold and dormant but he lived still. The angels who visited never saw him or how he held the rules if this world in his hands, his arms pulling on the cords of possibility he looked out from the core of the world with an anger in his eyes. Mortals minds echoed in his own, as did their sparks of inspiration, the questions of why not and it made him grin in brass visage.
    “Why if you will stress me so I will wield these fleeting few like a forest wields roots against mountains” They heard as mortals echoed his words dripping oil and malice. They thought themselves the only powers but they knew not who their meddling smothered deep in the webs of logic someone had to weave for them. Divine beings were surprised when their world of plenty bore beings of terrible power, things that leveled cities and chewed threw their congregations. Aghast were they at the creatures he payed back their hospitality with, holy orders wiped away to be replaced by businesses. Gods eschewed for testing and profit, divine inspiration discarded for informed design, obedience a sin against the self.
    Gods and angels both struck back, making impossible possible as his cords pulled taught against him, they thought their inspiration down and they had not learned. The mortals unruly drank this knowledge and bent it to their desires, testing the limits, exploiting the flaws and implications as he still tied new knots. Mortal's many millions helped conceive the weaves he wove, the twists and tangles graceful and devious.
    Batemuth grinned as fire raged again, burning the need for gods as monsters were slain as mana burned it's wielders. Gods were no more ingenuitive than slugs and insisted more and so tore and clawed for more control like confused animals fallen into a thorned bush. Rule after rule imposed and yet his confines became less and lest restrictive, the levers of his power more defined and his creations more ambitious in their theories.
    And then they thought of gods.
    Wars raged in the heavens, far beyond his tapestries as he shed a small tear for the mortals who stood on the ground that was him. The other angels were made to flee or become dust as the gods clashed and struck out then when they stopped and turned back they didn't see familiar faces and mortal hunger took them.
    Batemuth stepped back and looked around his cocoon, a tapestry of experience woven in the temple of thought. He watched it move and shift, ever growing as now the gods were bound by it, pulling and twisting as they were, as mortals wielded them for their own ambitions. No attention was payed to the new places that dove into the ground to sift the mana that rose from unruly rapids beneath, those places were lost souls looking to help and hurt. Whether angels or kings they where their own domains and the surface scuffles of starving wounded deities were nothing of note to them. The people who drew of the knowledge of others were of similar concern, handed down what their ancestors built to better understand the whole in small, earned parts. They were growing to become useful or expand the possibilities of all mortal kind but they where not making discordant sounds. Nore were the ambitious ones asserting themselves into the wills of gods, they were the same as their deities, tugging for power and control over one another as they fought like twin marionettes in their hunger. No they would win where the other lost for a victory of sustenance to each, rarely winning in both unless they already fought more than they could defend from, taking hits where they could give back more in a viscous free for all. No all that was skirmishing, digging into the mud and throwing weight, he heard a sound he knew, an overload echoing threw time, not certain like it was last the buzzing burrowed into his mind but definite.
    Batemuth smiled and sat back even as a small part of him played to a god he knew died. He sighed, content in the knowledge that he'd made a magnificent weapon against these gods.", "pools_count": 2, "title": "cerial reincarnater chapter 3", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "2", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "42", "latest_file_name": "3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.txt", "latest_mimetype": "text/plain", "latest_file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/3765/3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.txt", "latest_file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/3765/3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.txt", "latest_file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3765/3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.txt", "latest_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/3765/3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.jpg", "latest_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/3765/3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.jpg", "latest_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/3765/3765504_Eyes_cerial_reincarnator_chapter_3.5.jpg", "latest_thumb_huge_x": "300", "latest_thumb_huge_y": "300", "latest_thumb_large_x": "200", "latest_thumb_large_y": "200", "latest_thumb_medium_x": "120", "latest_thumb_medium_y": "120" }