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 Sun King

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Artik
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PostSubject: Sun King   Wed Nov 27, 2013 7:44 pm

King Artik stood before his masses, "Lords, ladies," he began, "I welcome you to our new home, Nova Roma!" The crowd cheered. "To commerate this, I officially unveil the Roman Transgalactic Empire's new flag! He withdrew from his robes a cloth depicting a circle sliced by various colors. "May our prosperous time never end!"

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Cyril
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PostSubject: Re: Sun King   Thu Nov 28, 2013 1:42 pm

Someone in the crowd called out, "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy!"

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Artik
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PostSubject: Re: Sun King   Sat Dec 21, 2013 10:19 pm

Artik, after leaving the newly formed Nova Roma, headed to Trenzalore to begin decorating.

At least, he would have, had the TARDIS decided to prolong his inevitable fate. However, Artik was unaware of the nature of this.

"I said 'Trenzalore, not," he read the coordinates, "Planet Halitos!"

Artik stepped out of the door, unconcerned with whatever the Universe could throw at him.

"OH, GOD, THAT STINKS. DAMN LITERAL PLANET NAMES."

Artik tried again, "Trenzalore! Twenty-fourth of December, 575AZ!"

He sighed, "Earth, 2013AD? Rome! I like Rome! Wait, no. Not Rome. That's... Vatican City? Ah."

He stepped out, and hit someone. "Oh, Lord. Sorry," he cried, helping an elderly man up.
He took Artik's hand and smiled as he rose, speaking fluent Italian, "Ah. It is not your fault. Bless you, son!"

Artik blinked, looking over the man, white robes, white cap, iron cross, "Hold on!" He gasped, "Your... Holiness?" He bowed at the pope.

Francis smiled and bowed to Artik. "What act of science is this blue box?"

Artik blinked, "Science? Don't you mean 'witchcraft, divination, demonism, et al'?"

Pope Francis chuckled, "You know, my son, I was once a chemical engineer. I am not one to condemn that which I do not know. As I wish you not to chalk me off as one to do so. But, alas, I can see how you'd assume as such. If it weren't for science, I'd have died young. And I thank the Lord every day for keeping me alive so that I may aid those in need."

Artik noticed all the differences in dress than most popes. The lack of gold jewelry, the plain, white attire. Not to mention the fact he sensed no Swiss Guard watching them. "Pope... Francis... The First?"

The pope laughed heartedly, "First? So far I am the only. But, 'tomorrow never knows'."

Artik tried to digest this, "Did you just quote Ringo Starr?"

Francis nodded, "I was also a nightclub bouncer."

Artik chuckled, "Well. I'd better get to it!"

Pope Francis frowned, "I can tell something is troubling you."

"I... I have this unshakable feeling of dread," Artik admitted.

Jorge nodded slowly, "Have you been praying on it?"

Artik felt a bit embarressed, "Er.
.. No, Father. I'm... Not the most religious fellow."

Francis smiled, "Not many really are. But come now, what do you see when you think 'God'?"

Artik already knew the answer, "Nothing," he began.

The pope nodded, "Go on."

"I see all the life in the Universe, the heart and soul of creation all trying, trying so hard, to coexist."

Francis clapped a hand on Artik's back, "If that is what you believe, then you are right, my son."

Artik frowned, "Religion lost its appeal when I saw this universe created," he explained. "But, still. All of Causality came from something. And it makes more sense than not that God did this."

Pope Francis watched as Artik walked back into his box, "Goodbye, my son!"

As the TARDIS took off, Jorge simply said, "Imagine."

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PostSubject: Re: Sun King   Tue Jan 21, 2014 12:04 am

((While the above posts probably happened, the next hasn't... yet? And probably never will....))

Artik and Ryuzaki stepped out of the TARDIS into a busy street flooded by red light. "Artik, where are we," Rick asked.

Artik smiled, "Germany. Hamburg. The redlight district. Late 1960."

Ryuzaki whistled, "The late 1960s?"

Artik shook his head. His hair nearly knock over a bystander. "Sorry," he said. "No, Ricky! 1960."

Ryuzaki nodded. "Right. Why?"

Artik grinned, "Something I wanted to show you in a strip club." He noted Ryuzaki's furrowed brow, "A band. The Beat Brothers."

Ryuzaki blinked, "Sorry. Who?"

Artik tutted, mumbling, "And you call yourself a Brit." He led Ryck to a club and strode in. However, the stage was empty of scantily-clad women, replaced by an instument-laden fivesome who were high on Preludin.

Ryuzaki blinked as the band began singing a Buddy Holly song, "Sorry. Is this the Beatles?" Artik nodded. Ryuzaki scrunched his face in confusion, "I don't see Ringo. Why are the called The Beat Brothers? Who are those two?"

Artik sighed, "This Germany. They like proving their didffference by having a different name for every damn thing. That's Pete Best on drums and Stuart Sutcliffe on bass. Stew there's girlfriend introduced the Beatles to the exi(e) haircut. Ringo hasn't shown up in their lives yet."

The two watched as the slightly drugged teenagers played through thd night.
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Ryuzaki
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PostSubject: Re: Sun King   Sun Aug 10, 2014 11:18 am

The days were getting colder, Artik realized one October day. He smiled to himself as he walked on the leaf-covered sidewalk. He loved the fall and winter on Earth. He was getting older. Much too old for his body. His time as Watashi Artik was nearly over. He would soon die and be reborn as another newborn, just as this body had. He tried not to think about it, but a bit of planning was in order. As he walked on the deserted sidewalk in a small Earth town, he muttered to himself, "I won't do it here. Not anywhere near Earth or Nova Roma." See, the Cosmic Saiyans don't die very often, but when they do, they must be very careful that their old bodies to not fall into the hands of nefarious empires and villains and the like, else the entire space region may fall into warfare over it. He would have to die in another universe, one he wasn't entirely concerned about. "Ah. Right. I'll use a parallel. Perfect. Consequence free!"



He had just about finished planning his funeral when he felt something in his brown frock-coat buzz. He reached into his pocket and looked curiously at what he pulled out. "I forgot I owned a wallet." He flipped it open and saw what it was. "Oh? My library card?" He felt another surge of memories--- ones he still got now and again from his past life--- "Ah, right. I didn't know that still existed. Ah, well." He pressed his thumb on an extremely out-dated photograph of him on the corner of the card and felt the usual gust of wind associated with old age teleports.



He looked down at the steel walkway, stamping his left foot on it. He hadn't worn shoes in a while. "Feels like..." he was looking for the name of the place buried in an ancient bit of his mind. "Oh! That's it! Glocwaith! That's where I am!" It had said all of this on another corner of the old, tattered library card. "Erm. RIght. This..." he brushed his fingertips on the outside wall of the large, tall building. "This shouldn't be here. This whole planet shouldn't be here." He muttered something about the same thing about Heaven, and sighed. "Right. Well, might as well see what they want."

He walked into the Archimedes.

"Alright," Artik shouted, "What's so damned important that you made me remember this was even ever a thing?" Nothing. "Are there any non-droid staff members available?" There was a small, scuffling sound coming from a room behind the main desk. A short man, about half of Artik's six-and-something feet, stood on a stack of books behind the counter and looked up at him. "Yes? Who is it?"



Artik smiled, "Hello. I just wanted to know what this was all about." He held up his faintly glowing library card.



"My word," the ancient-looking man said, "They haven't used those here in millenia!"

Artik sighed, "Yeah. I get that a lot."

"Looks like it's expired. They're supposed to be good for about a billion years of relative time."



"I've been doing a little longer than that. See, the thing is, though..." He wondered if the man would understand or not, "I died. My body dissolved itself, and I got a new one. Until a few years ago, I had no idea about my past life. It just showed up. I hadn't realized I had it until just now."

"Well," the man said, looking Artik over carefully, speaking with a quiver of concern, "the card is supposed to find its owner." He yanked it from Artik's hand with surprising speed. "Hmm. You looked better without the spray tan."

Artik sighed, "I... It's... it's my actual skin color!", he shouted defensively.



"Hmph." The man gave him back the old card. "Keep it. I'll make you a new one, since you're in a new body, and all." He began typing away at an ancient computer console, "Race?"



Artik glanced at the computer terminal, feeling slightly uncomfortable with most of this. "Er. Saiyan," he lied.



The man typed that in. "Name?"



"Watashi."



The man held back a laugh, "Is this a joke? Please take this seriously. Name?", he asked again.



"I'm... sorry? Watashi Ar---"



"That cannot be anyone's name."




"Why not, exactly?" Artik found himself even more uncomfortable, now.



"Because your name cannot be, 'Myself'."



"Err. What?"



"That's... that's what you keep telling me. Myself Ar... something."



"Er," he reached his hand inside his coat pocket and pressed down on a key. "Watashi Artik," he tried again.

"That's more like it. It's more of an Earth word, though, isn't it? 'Watashi'."



Artik inwardly sighed. The TARDIS was translating his last name as if he were saying the Japanese word for 'I' and 'Myself'. He needed to recalibrate it sometime. Before he gives it to that one kid from Christmas.



He walked out with his new, shiny library card and a nagging wonder on why he subconsciously  named himself, "Artik Me".

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