The Epic of Stove Stovington

Stove Stovington, son of Steven H. Stovington, had been thoroughly beaten. His weapons lay discarded on the ground, just out of his reach, as a cloaked enemy continued to slash his pathetic form further away from life. His body, scarred, bruised and barely recognizable through the deep gashes littered throughout his abdomen and chest, was ready for the relief of death. However, Stove Stovington would not let go of his last threads of life. He was told that reinforcements were coming, and just over the hill would the cavalry descend upon the unknown attacker. The knowledge of that fact allowed Stove Stovington to raise a single fist and haplessly attempt to strike his opponent. This, of course, elicited laughter from his opponent.

“Well, Stove, even though you have fought like a wet donkey trying to use a towel, I have beaten you. Now, you can finally die,”

The broken and raspy words of Stove Stovington came after a pause of deafening silence.

“Just you try,”

With that, over the rolling hills came Stove Stovington’s backup, a single group to make that of a destroyer of worlds shiver in his divine boots. The group led by Stove Stovington into battle against this singular unknown enemy had taken the lives of foes that could have wiped nations off the map. This group was revered by many and feared by more, but most of all would be the destruction of the one who thought he would slay Stove Stovington. Perhaps, however, the most notable attribute of this cavalry was its size.

This seemingly undefeatable army, excluding Stove Stovington, was made up of eight soldiers who called themselves the Order of Five Squares. Reassured by their presence, Stove Stovington used his last spur of energy to spring for his sword, and in one motion, cut a deep slash in the enemy’s chest. This enraged the attacker, his life fluids spilling into a lake of imminent destruction at his feet. Still bleeding, he lunged at Stove Stovington’s form, but was then thrown back several meters by a projectile launched from the firearm of Sir Jeffington III, the oldest and most battle hardened member of Stove Stovington’s elite force, other than Stove himself. Jeffington had been Stove’s oldest friend, although he would never reveal the circumstances of their first meeting. His face was scarred from years of battle, and his grey eyes never looked very full of emotion. However, there was a troubled soul behind that scarred face and muscular build, but it was rarely seen by anyone. Now, due to the wound inflicted by Sir Jeffington, the writhing villain was nearer now to the cold hands of death than Stove Stovington himself. He had chosen the wise decision to retreat from the battle, as he, along with his discarded weaponry, disappeared in a brilliant flash of blue light.

“Sir, we’re happy to see you and glad to have found you. However, this area is not secure. We need to get back to the ship,” exclaimed Jeffington with urgency. “I believe there’s something you should see,”

The pair, followed by the seven other members of the team, climbed into a small but efficient vessel that was only meant to transport passengers from the ground to Stove Stovington’s ship, and his main base of operation. The ship itself was a behemoth, its hull larger than the great space rocks it was made to plow through, and its frontal cannons powerful enough to destroy entire planets if they so needed to. The whole ship was as extravagant as it needed to be, though, because for Stove Stovington, The Order, and the immense crew that manned the ship, It was home.

On the bridge of the great ship, nicknamed the Warfare Wagon, Jeffington informed Stove Stovington of the news.

“Sir Stovington, we have received a message from an unidentified sender that simply reads ‘ID#DIM009384372’. This is highly disturbing, as our records don’t show any-”

“Jeffington,” Stove Stovington interrupted. “This could be a serious cause for alarm. But we must not assume anything yet. I have just gotten out of a battle. Our first priority should be to leave this place,” Stove said, clutching his gashes to prevent more blood from spilling out.

Perhaps the most interesting thing regarding Stove Stovington’s world was the presence of a vast amount of unique universes, and the ability of so many races within these universes to create the technology to travel between them. This, of course, made many universes available to Stove Stovington and his crew. The Warfare Wagon came fully equipped with a dimensional transport activation core, or DTAC, which, provided sufficient fuel, can transport the entirety of the Warfare Wagon across dimensions. Doing so does take up much of the Wagon’s fuel, and depending on how far away a dimension might be, Stove Stovington and The Order might not be able to make it to a certain destination.

“Jim, what’s the closest safe dimension to us?” exclaimed Jeffington. “We must get Stove Stovington to a hospital immediately, as his wounds are still severe,”

A computerized, low-pitched voice replied: “The nearest safe dimension is ID#DIM009437651, more commonly known as ‘Ornia’,”

“Thank you, Jim. Please set a course for Ornia,” Stove Stovington said as he collapsed into his seat and began to rest. Jeffington took the controls and went onto the ship’s intercom system.

“ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL: THIS SHIP WILL BE UNDERGOING A DIMENSIONAL CHANGE IN EXACTLY 1 MINUTE. PLEASE PREPARE YOURSELVES.”

The personnel of the ship all stopped what they were doing and strapped into their seats as the loudspeaker counted down to the dimensional change. No more than a minute later, the ship had gone. An outside observer would have seen the ship disappear in a brilliant flash of light, and then all was calm and silent, like nothing had graced the area.

On the inside, however, the ship’s countdown reached zero, and for a fleeting second, everything felt as if it was in absolute chaos. Everything that had been and would be was flashing through their eyes, while at the same time bringing senselessness and dread. Their thoughts could not stay with them and they rapidly aged up and down their own timelines. Physical space ceased to exist, and everything was everywhere, but also nowhere. There were no thoughts or memories of this small amount of time, because of the stretching and pulling on the fabric of space and time itself to transport such a large object between dimensions. But after that one fraction of a millisecond, reality was brought back to them.

The shift had taken the entire ship to a new reality, known as ‘Ornia’. Ornia was a place of relative peace, a dimension of those who worshiped the divine force that created the dimensions. Stove Stovington and his crewmates were met with a warm welcome, and, without hesitation, Stove Stovington was taken to a hospital to receive care for his wounds. Sir Jeffington had announced to the ship’s personnel that he planned to study the nature of the enemy that had injured his leader, as no one in the Order had ever encountered the likes of him before. The best lead they could go by was the unusual reaction of Stove Stovington upon first seeing this enemy. His usual carefree demeanor had turned serious, and his actions decisive as he had battled with the robed man who’d shown up seemingly out of nowhere.

Of course, with Jeffington shut in his own chamber, the other members of Stove Stovington’s Order would be running the ship.

Alone on the bridge of the Warfare Wagon stood a thin, lanky man by the name of Jon. His hair was always short and straight, his face always seeming to sport some decent stubble, but almost always shaved to a point where one wouldn’t say he had a beard. His sleeves rolled up and his plain brown shirt and pants stained with grease, he would always seem to be working on some new gadget in his large lab he had built into the ship. Jon was the technology guru of the group, and of course a gifted mechanic. In battle he always was seen in a cybernetic suit of armor, sporting a fancy new technological weapon. Jon had drawn up the plans and overseen the construction of the Warfare Wagon, and knew more about the ship than any other crew member. Because of this, he had been put in charge of the ship’s bridge while Stove was recovering.

He sat in one of the nine seats surrounding the helm, and watched the many screens. Some had numbers that flashed across them, showing the ship’s vital elements as stable, and others showed security feed from everywhere inside the massive vessel. He had been playing chess with a computer opponent when the sound of footsteps startled him out of his daydream.

“Watching the bridge, huh? Looks exciting,” Enylia, another member of The Order, asked with her usual wit. Enylia was taken into the Order of Five Squares due to her ability to manipulate her own energy into powerful new combat abilities. Enylia usually had a thin figure with neatly kept shoulder-length hair, and would wear plain, modest clothing that was easy to move around in. She sat in the seat next to Jon, and began staring at the large screens, though the constant stream of information seemed foreign to her.

Jon replied, “Things get slow around here, there’s not much to do up here unless the thing’s flyin’. Could probably leave for a couple hours and nobody’d notice,” with his gruff and monotone voice, shaped by years of having to put up with people.

“We should do that, then. It’s really boring here, and all of the others are busy with their own thing, so we wouldn’t be noticed.” Enylia replied. She had this habit of wandering the ship in times of inactivity. She found it therapeutic. Jon, however, felt no need to go walking around aimlessly, and simply replied, “You can go, but I’m gonna stay here until we take off again.”

“Fine, be that way.” Enylia huffed, and exited the room to wander off by herself.

Enylia wandered the ship for hours, figuring that she’d find nothing new, and actually jumped back in surprise when she leaned on a wall. Another section of wall popped out, extruding in a strange way. Enylia cautiously approached it, and pressed the section of wall back in. The wall she had initially leaned on retracted into the ceiling to reveal an empty room with white walls, save for one golden pedestal in the center. Upon closer inspection, Enylia found that on the pedestal was an unknown mint-green material. It was made almost exactly in the shape of a square, except for a small square cut out of the top right corner. Instinctively, she knew that this object emanated extraordinary power, and was in awe of how something this powerful could be hidden right under her nose.

In the midst of her daydreaming, a gruff and raspy voice scared her out of her trance. “So that’s what he’s been using this for.”