HFO Post 35 is the backstory and introduction for the Twelve God-Monarchs and Mega Jonestown Prime, integral to plotlines in Pantheons of the NeSiverse. The Narrator wants to name the city, but is constantly blocked by the Copyright God, who eventually suggests to just call it Jonestown, at which the Narrator calls it Mega Jonestown Prime to add more flare. When the Narrator explains that this was the seat of power for Twelve God-Kings, the FeministGoddess complains about the use of the masculine term 'king' and the Narrator switches to Twelve God-Monarchs. They ruled from atop a, currently nameless, mountain and many attempted to steal from them or to kill them, but all failed. Until a stranger arrived who demanded tribute from them. After a battle between the stranger and the god-monarchs, a settlement was reached, though the details of that settlement are unknown. The next day, however, the space-city had vanished without a trace and nobody knew why. In its place arose Cosmic Customs House that would deal with incoming people to the NeSiverse. Sometimes, however, people would still vanish within the Cosmic Customs House. The EditorGod then complains about this wall of expository text. In the customs house is a worker whose name roughly translates as "Fruit". The younger cousin of the Big O arrives, but she states that anyone with more appendages than eight must pay tax per appendage. The creatures asks if she would accept a bribe and she says she would, but his bribe is sexual in nature and she instantly denies his travel papers. Next appears a gentleman of Discharding, Marquis Rosslefot, who expresses his understanding and interest in the stations detection-spells. Judging him to be of worth, she stamps him as a Cosmic Customs House VIP. When he wants to use the portal, which should have transported him to another part of the star-sized station, he disappears. Fruit makes contact with her organisation, R.I.T.E., as Agent Tempus and tells them they have a new power source.
The NeSiverse is a nexus connecting many different universes and settings. This is not due to any cosmological underpinnings of reality, but rather due to two factors. First, despite the tireless efforts of a very frustrated CopyrightGod, copyright laws are very laxly enforced here, meaning that anyone is welcome here despite their origins. Second, the NeSiverse is the site of a story, and as such many are drawn to the spotlight, hoping to share it.
Near the dawn of time - well, of NeSiversian time anyway - there was a great space city. It was fairly stereotypical of space cities in its layout - that is, it was on a gigantic metal platform with a dome encasing an atmosphere - but was incredibly large, and also served as the center of NeSiversian travel. Gods, demons, archbeings, and hobos all mingled here, coming to the NeSiverse, leaving it, or simply passing through.
The name of the city... was Atlantis.
CopyrightGod: Already taken!
Dammit, I've been noticed. Fine. The name of the city was... Numenor.
Alright then, YOU come up with a name.
CopyrightGod: Me? Er, uh, well, how about-- No, that's used. You could call it-- No, that's used too. Or what-- Nope, that's taken too.
THIS is why people break copyright. In an infinite multiverse, EVERY thing is taken, somewhere or another.
CopyrightGod: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Call it Jonestown, I don't give a fig.
CopyrightGod: What? Nothing wrong with Jonestown. Good, respectable name. My ancestors were born in a Jonestown--
Ugh. Whatever. We'll call it Mega Jonestown Prime to class it up a little.
CopyrightGod: Excellent! As you were.
So Mega Jonestown Prime was, in many ways, the center of the NeSiverse, hosting so many varied powers, magicks, technologies, and beings from many cosms far beyond the NeSiverse as well. It was ruled by a pantheon of 12 God-Kings--
FeministGoddess: I object! Why are there no women in this pantheon?
Well, I'm sure there are, it's not like I'm defining each of these 12 God-Kings at the moment...
FeministGoddess: Then why call them God-KINGS? God-Monarchs is a much better moniker.
Fine. 12 God-Monarchs of unfathomable power ruled Mega Jonestown Prime. Their palace was at the top of a mountain in the center of the space city, a mountain whose top nearly reached the great dome, a mountain named-- Okay, I am NOT saying this mountain is named Olympus. I don't know who wrote this script, but they're clearly trying to get me lynched by the CopyrightGod.
Anyway, within this nameless mountain were carved the grand vaults of the pantheon, where they kept all the treasures and magicks and technologies they gathered... the greatest trove of treasures in the NeSiverse, and of some other universes as well. They were many who coveted the God-Monarchs' treasures and powers... thieves who tried to plunder the vaults, warlords who tried to invade the city, and assassins who tried to slay the God-Monarchs themselves. All failed.
But one day, in the dim mists of time, a visitor came before the pantheon, demanding tribute. The God-Monarchs refused, of course. The visitor dared to attack the pantheon in their own halls, and the mountain shook with the released power of their conflict. The cosmic and divine energies emanating from the battle were too fierce for any to approach, even the mighty dragons who were the vassals of one of the God-Monarchs. When the battle was done, both visitor and God-Monarchs were all alive. The visitor left. No one knows on what terms he left, or if he left empty-handed.
But the next morning, Mega Jonestown Prime had vanished, never heard from again in the history of the NeSiverse. Some speculate that the visitor had left behind a doomsday device to enact revenge on the God-Monarchs who defied him, and that destroyed the space city. Others speculate that the space city went to another universe.
Whatever the truth behind its disappearance, it was indisputably gone. The NeSiverse moved on. Beings from other universes still came and went, and a Cosmic Customs House sprang up in Mega Jonestown Prime's place, to regulate their coming and going. It wasn't great like the ancient space city, but it served, and still serves, its purpose, stamping the passports of all who come through, confiscating contraband, and charging customs taxes.
Once in a while, a traveler will simply... disappear within the vastness of the Cosmic Customs House. No one knows what happens to them, but rumors fancy that the same fate that befell Mega Jonestown Prime also befalls these occasional visitors through the eons.
EditorGod: Good LORD, that's a wall of text. My eyes are bleeding just trying to edit that.
ANYWAY... today, at the Cosmic Customs House - which is a massive space station the size of a sun - a customs agent is passing transcosmic travelers through the checkout, stamping each passport. She has red and black hair, and cunning eyes. A name badge pinned to her shirt reads, in a legibly-telepathic language, "FRUIT". Fruit is not her name of course, but it's a close enough approximation that the legible telepathy can translate it to whomever sees the name badge.
"Fruit": *stamping passport* NEXT!
A multi-tentacle alien being that could be the youngest cousin of the Big O, slithers forth.
"Fruit": There's a twenty-credit tax per appendage over eight.
The creature burbles indignantly.
"Fruit": Hey, *I* don't make the rules.
The creature's burble is sly this time.
"Fruit": Well, yes, I could be amenable to a bribe... What did you have in mind?
The creature burbles more, and waves it tentacles suggestively.
"Fruit": EWWWWW! No freakin' way, that's not how I swing.
A dapper alien gentleman comes up. He is tall and thin and humanoid, with lime green skin and a teethless mouth. He has a monocle in each eye, pocketwatch chains coming out of all his pockets, and a top hot with a miniature pipe-chimney that vents steam with a soft whistle. He presents his passport, identifying him as an extra-NeSiversal noble from a highly steampunk-theme dimension.
Marquis Rosslefot of Discharding: How do you do, miss?
"Fruit": *inspecting passport* You're from Discharding then? What's the purpose of your visit here?
Marquis Rosslefot of Discharding: Ironically for one of my dimension's greatest steampunk inventors, I find great pleasure in seeing non-steampunk technologies and magicks. Perverse curiosity, if you will. For instance, the digital nature of your Customs House's equipment fascinates me, as does the non-Euclidean geometrics[Ext 2] of your detection-spells. All very elegant, something that Discharding's steampunk magitech lacks, despite its effectiveness.
"Fruit": I see. I think we can waive most of the standard fees and inspections for someone of your... stature.
Marquis Rosslefot of Discharding: Oh my! I thank you, miss, but I assure you, a gentleman of my standing is well able to afford all applicable fees and taxes.
"Fruit": No, no, I insist.
She smiles at him, and stamps his passport with word VIP, and waves him on through the line. The alien marquis tips his hat, and walks through the arch behind "Fruit". This arch is a portal, which transfers any traveler that walks through it to whichever destination has been approved for him. The traveler walks through and appears in a specific shuttle bay or teleporter station elsewhere on the massive space station that is the Cosmic Customs House.
The Marquis Rosslefot of Discharding, however, walks through the arched portal... and never comes out. "Fruit" taps her badge.
"Fruit": Agent Codenamed Tempus to Home: New power source incoming.