Triumph over our hostile nature | Glowfic Constellation

This humble rat observes that the great and storied Vanda Nossëo may be able to grant the wish that lord Many-Times-Burned has always refused, no matter the victories and treasure Last accumulates to purchase it with.

The restoration of a lost race. Such a thing has seemed so terribly unlikely, a hope held as a dying ember in roiling ocean, but it may yet come to pass.

Vanda Nossëo can resurrect the dead of some peoples. We do not know if it will work for peoples from this universe; there is more ambient magic affecting living things here than in most places.

I see. So even you are not all-powerful.

No. We're growing in power over time, but we are not all-powerful.

None are, and none will be.

If you do not care to Descend through combat, there is nothing but barren rock and searing heat for you here, O visitor. If you wish to address this dragon, or their guardians, the path is always open.

If we find, on attempting it, that humans from this world can be brought to life again, will the dragon wake Last so that she can give us names, and her people can join her again?

If you fight your way to Last and make the offer, my lord would not deign to stop her departure.

Would it be taken very much amiss to teleport directly to her?

If that is within your abilities, no punishment will come of it. Those with power may do whatever that power affords them. Never-Ever seems slightly amused.

Good, we wouldn't want to antagonize the dragon but not many people are going to be interested in fighting their way down. Thank you for your time.

I find myself curious what will become of your Way, bound as I am to mine thanks to my soul set aflame. Until your return, goodbye. Never-Ever - vanishes as if teleporting away.

Wow, cool. Teleporting rat.

On a planet this size it might take a while for anyone to collect enough money to pay for their request to jump the resurrection queue, but they can make available a modest subsidy and a money-back guarantee since it's experimental and see who bites first.

There is a city spreading wildly across a river delta - not the Lake People, but a more flamboyant culture. The people here are richer than average for the world, though of course not by galactic standards. They are aggressively mercantile, and have been extremely eager to get products from outside the universe, as well as producing more interdimensional visitors than average. Their stories are almost all tales of derring-do and high drama from grudges (resolved violently or socially or legally, but always dramatically) to romance and sex shenanigans to tales of half-mythologized genius artists. They shout at each other and laugh loudly, dress in bright colors, sing and dance on the streets, throwing fruit and having fistfights and speed-painting in public with onlookers cheering.

This kid once climbed on the tower of Armsman's Bridge with his friends. This man wrestled an alligator for a bet, can you heal his hand? (He won the bet, it was worth it.) This woman is a prostitute and proud of it and once tarred and feathered a bad client. This woman beat her husband's lover in a boat-rowing competition and won the right to divorce him. This is the story of the sailor Mikas Galewind, a nobody who talked his way into taking over a band of pirates! This is another Mikas Galewind story, the time he tricked a foul sea serpent into letting the ship pass with a valuable secret that was no secret at all! This man had a singing competition with his hated rival and cunningly spied on the man, choosing a song to counter his opponent's.

The city is full with docks and theaters and open-air markets and public art. When the news about possible resurrection spreads, there are immediately seven different big public collection campaigns to pay for the return of fondly remembered artists. The collection of both stories and gold and silver for Samara Glory, architect and painter who made the glorious Sunrise Temple, reaches the threshold first.

Vanda Nossëo counts up the gold and silver at the going rate as determined by their economists and puts Samara Glory in the queue; the donors will get their money back if it doesn't work.

Samara Glory's body is emplaced in a resurrection facility not far from Station One and poked by a magic rock.

She groans. "Fucking fuck! What the screaming fire did I drink last night, goddamn." She looks around.

One of the envoys to her city is sitting there. "Samara? Are you not feeling well?"

"Yes? Fuck. No. Something's wrong. Where am I?" Squint. "Can't place your name."

"We haven't met before. I'm Sai Ding," says the envoy. "What's wrong?"

"Feels like the mother of all hangovers except in the feelings... Also, just hurts. The pain is fading but, ugh." She rubs a temple. "Where am I, please?"

"You're in a resurrection facility on another planet," Sai Ding says. "I can take you home if you're ready."

"Ha. Very funny, star lord. Did Luka put you up to this?"

"I don't know who Luka is. My people recently made contact with your world, and your city took up a collection to have you resurrected. They'll be really happy to see you."

"...You're serious. Resurrection is a thing."

"Yes. Usually people wake up from it feeling fine, though, so it would be helpful to know more about how you're not feeling well - it might be something to do with the ambient magic situation on your planet."