# weenie_properties_book_page_data

author_Name: Scribe Boushra
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(They spoke of many strange things that night, not all of them suitable for such a widespread audience.  The following is but one of the things they mentioned before Jaali ordered the other Zharalim to move out)

"They talked of an old Menhir ring that housed the very essence of conflict itself.  Their leader, an decaying corpse named Tremegon, seemed to speak of it in almost revered tones, yet he did not seem to even know who had made it, only that it had disappeared sometime shortly after the binding of the Hopeslayer."


author_Name: Scribe Boushra
author_Account: prewritten
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"He went on to say that after he had fled as far from Ithaenc as he could, he heard tales of the Essence's return.  In hushed tones, he said that it takes forms of tribute, consumes them, and imparts tokens of its wisdom onto the donor.  He then revealed that himself and his troops were going there, after seizing the most potent scrolls they could find.  It was at this point that I gave the signal to fall back.   We waited until the other Shagar Zharalim arrived, and granted the Sand Kings final rest."


Jaali Ibn'Adir


author_Name: Le-Ai Rea
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Not long ago, in a time I remember as if it were just yesterday, the mines provided us with wealth and happiness. We were called to the mines in the name of greed and our insatiable desire for a life our ancestors set upon us.  It was as if happiness itself was being mined from the rich veins in those tunnels. Every day we picked and cracked those tunnels open forcing them to reveal their wealth. Our wealth.


author_Name: Le-Ai Rea
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It was a glorious era. We had estates draped in gold and we wore clothes adorned with glitter and jewels. When we walked our feet fell upon walkways made of precious stone. When we drank it was from goblets of polished silver. The very essence of the mine oozed itself into our living rooms and we welcomed it as a child lost in the night.


author_Name: Le-Ai Rea
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Then the day came when we forced the mine to reveal much more than the wealth
it had been hiding from us. Our miners had broken down a wall revealing an ancient tunnel. We assumed the Empyreans erected it long ago, as we had found evidence of their prior existence in the mine before.  In the beginning we expected to find chambers filled with ancient Empyrean riches. Perhaps even relics left behind. But when three seasoned miners didn't return from the tunnels we knew something sinister had happened.


author_Name: Le-Ai Rea
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Four of our best warriors entered the tunnels with the hope of finding the lost miners. At the very least, we wanted to know what awaited us down there. We still had visions of chambers glittering with treasure and rare relics. The following day we had our answer. Only one warrior emerged from the mine's opening, bruised and battered from a battle so fierce it should have left him dead. He stumbled forward and collapsed before our feet. 


author_Name: Le-Ai Rea
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It took days before the warrior was well enough to speak. When his fever had finally broke, he told us what had happened in the tunnels below. There were no rooms glittering with treasure. No lost relics from a past civilization. The warrior spoke only of men who death had touched but had not taken. He spoke of rotted and fleshless men who had taken up arms in the name of something unearthly.


author_Name: Le-Ai Rea
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The decision soon came down from the town council. We were to abandon the mine and lock the entrance.  The very thing that once sustained our town had destroyed us. It placed a pox upon everyone and everything. Our town coffers dried up, our crops died, and over time even the most stubborn person left town.  Only I remain to tell this story and to warn others from entering the Mines of Despair.


author_Name: Caloyer of the Lyceum
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Eaushi,

The bearer of this message has met all the written tests to my satisfaction. I give you permission to send this student to the trials.

Sahoni Harjelin, Hyrethis Eipoth 472


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To you who read these words, we send greetings. For you to merely see this text indicates that you possess a high degree of talent and skill, and the esteem of your colleagues and your monarch.


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You have been elected to join the Ancient and Glorious Order of Hieromancers. The Order has served the monarchs of the Seaborne Empire with humility and honor since the closing years of the Millennium War with Dericost. You may have heard any number of wild tales about the Order while training at your various Lyceums. Some are fabrication. Others, would it not be so, are true.


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Our Order was founded by a decree of the Empress Alaidain, blessed be her name, requiring an elite cadre of battle mages to serve as her personal guard and household company. The first Matriarch of the Order was Kerelinas, a member of the Parhelic Sisterhood. It was Kerelinas, with her abhorrence of combat, who first made a habit of coming before the Empress daily and begging to be relieved of her charge. To this day, the head of the Order maintains this tradition. This reinforces the humility of our leader, and recognizes that it is our greatest wish to never be called upon.


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The Order served with distinction on the battlefields of the Dericost. We are, however, more proud of our service after the fighting concluded. When the common soldiers of the Haebrous army wished to revenge their monarch's death, Her Majesty assigned us to guard the train of Gelidite refugees. We did not always succeed - the tales of Gelidites suffering torture and murder on the way to their exile are too often true.


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In the Great War against the Bael'Zharon, the Order was often detached from their duties guarding the Palace to assist the efforts of the Council of Five. Lord Kerenth of Atermore, a member of the Council, was himself promoted to his position from a humble Exarch of the Order. Despite these duties, our main task remained the safeguarding of His Majesty Emperor Caerlin I. In this, it is to be feared, we failed grievously.


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On the final night of our retreat from Haebrous, the general Omadin attacked the rear guard, scattering it like chaff and scything through our weakly defended trains. His Majesty lead us into the breach, and there fought in single combat against Omadin. Seeing his defeat imminent, Omadin called to himself the Black Madness.


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Although we fought mightily, His Majesty was touched by it at the very moment Omadin's head was released from his body. We carried His Majesty from the field, boarded the waiting ships, and brought him in agony back to Tentael. The anniversary of this event is still marked within the Order with a three day period of fasting and reflection.


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To atone for this infamous failure, Patriarch Taancraiti Omair, his fellow and wife, Aleth, and the surviving Hieromancers from that day of combat remained behind, defending Tentael after the rest had fled to Ireth Lassel. Their fate was not witnessed, but may be surmised. It is said that in the Shadows' advance across Ireth Lassel, the fiend Ferah was overheard exulting in her desecration and subsequent murder of Omair's mortal form.


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Membership in the Order requires not only skill and dedication to our monarch, but conviction to the cause of light. Traditionally, the name you gave light mattered not; all that was required of a Hieromancer was dedication to the core beliefs of truth, empathy, and service to the greater good.


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In recent years, since His Most Dignified and Serene Majesty Emperor Kellin II converted to the Northern Church, he has required us to swear the vows of Nali Athanas' Rule of Life. You may inquire into this creed on your own. If the Rule of Life conflicts with your own beliefs, we encourage you to instead seek an alternative path to to serving justice and the Empire.


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You will spend the next two years in training at the Ishilai Lyceum. This school was founded by Exarch Sephrena Mirenndae, who was recruited to the Order from the Adjanite Sisterhood of Ithaenc, and subsequently retired to become that order's priestess. At the conclusion of your training, you will be sent to the Trials. Your success or failure will determine whether or not you graduate, or serve an additional year in training. If you do not pass all the Trials within four years, we must with regret withdraw our invitation to join the order.


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The first Trials are those of combat. You will be required to best three Nephol Golems of increasing strength. Our Nephol Golems are unique, designed by the demiurgist Melisende of Anterac. They are invulnerable to conventional weapons and draining spells. Only War Magic, the chosen path of our Order, will harm them. From each golem you will acquire a token of the unique battle armor that marks a Hieromancer on the field of combat. These tokens may be presented to your trainer, who will actually give you the armor.


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The armor may not be worn immediately. When granted to the prospective graduate, it is "unkindled," sealed and lacking any power. Once you have earned all three pieces, a convocation is called in our Halls, which here in Ireth Lassel are located in the upper levels of the buried fortress city of Vasith. At a ceremony attended by the Exarchs of the Order, you will face the second stage of the Trials, the Kindling. At this time, you will attempt to bind a Kindling Stone into your armor. This requires a great deal of skill at War Magic.


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There are three colors of Kindling Stone, corresponding to each of the three Imperial Colors of the Seaborne Empire; sea blue, sea grey, and silver, the color of light reflected from the surface of the sea. Each Stone will tint your armor the appropriate color if successfully applied. You may choose to make your armor whichever color you wish, and you will be able to recolor the armor by applying a second Kindling Stone. This will, in most cases, revert the armor to its unkindled state. You may then rekindle the armor using a different colored stone.


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The Thaumaturgic Plate worn by the Order is uniquely lightweight, because all of its defenses are in the form of magic. While quite resistant to conventional damage, the Hieromancer wearing Thaumaturgic Plate will possess no protection against weapons forged from deadearth (translator's note: a literal translation - perhaps this refers to chorizite?). On the chest of a set of plate is the seal of the Seaborne Empire. Pieces of Thaumaturgic Plate are bound such that their spells will only work for the individual who last kindled them. This, of course, means that you should not let your comrades recolor your armor.


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For most, this will be the extent of your schooling, and it is no small feat to achieve. However, for those who excel in the arts of the battle mage, there are further possibilities. It is possible, though extremely difficult, to fully infuse a second Kindling Stone into a set of Thaumaturgic Plate. Only those born with a special gift for War Magic, and who have spent their lives specializing in the study and practice of it, will be able to accomplish this. Applying a second Kindling Stone will not merely change your armor's color, but will change it into a piece of Exarch Plate. Failure to accomplish this will, as detailed above, unkindle the armor.


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Successful creation of a set of Exarch Plate makes one eligible for admission to the Exarchs, the Order's cadre of field commanders. Once a set of Exarch Plate is created, the application of any additional Kindling Stone will revert it to its unkindled state, allowing mages to recolor their armor. Reflecting the difficulty of its creation, the spells of Exarch Plate can only be activated by the dedicated battle mage.


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Puppet Show
or
Two Wrongs sometimes make it all go Right

Master glided over to Puppet.  Puppet tried not to flinch.  Puppet thought he was getting better at it.  The not flinching part. 


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"Puppet, we heard good reports today.  Puppet seems to be assimilating well."  The words invaded Puppet's mind and did not leave until Master willed it to be so.  Master took good care of Puppet.  Usually.  Sometimes, Puppet was bad.  Master took care of that, too.  


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Master spoke again, "The Mosswarts have broken their agreement with us, Puppet.  This is unproductive.  It would be more unproductive if the other lessers on Dereth thought they could break our arrangements.  We have decided that an example must be made of these Mosswarts."


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Puppet shivered despite a willed attempt to stay still.  Master's voice resonated with displeasure.  It felt like thin needles being pricked into the veins of his mind, and then slowly taken out and put back in.  Over and over and over.  If Puppet could still cry he would.


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A strong blast of amusement came from Master's mind. "Do not become agitated.  We have much better plans for Puppet.  Even if Auberean were not so crucial to the Directive, it would still have much value.  The Overseers still cannot understand this "lying" concept.  It amuses me to confuse an Overseer."  Here Master stopped, and the amusement and calm he had been projecting into Puppet ceased.


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"But whom would Puppet tell?  Puppet is good.  Besides, Master is going to give Puppet a treat.  For that is another thing this world has taught me...us.  Irony is very amusing.  Here is the name of the Mosswart that has betrayed us.  Puppet will see this matter facilitated."


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Master whispered the name to Puppet.  Puppet smiled.  He had not smiled in a very long time.  A strange thought blossomed into his mind, "I hate you."  He did not know whom "I" was, and he didn't know whom he hated, but the thought felt delicious all the same.  He looked over at Master to see if Master would be angry about this thought, but the Master was already gone.


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Two Drudges ran over to him from the shadows.  They grabbed hold of his arms and dragged him away through one of the endless corridors in the stronghold.  Puppet was used to this by now.  He had better things to think about.  He thought about the Mosswart tribal chief.  And he thought about all the things he had learned about pain in the short eternity of these last few days.  He kept on smiling.  


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The Tusker still lay on the floor twitching, occasionally letting out a soft wail.  I had not known Tuskers could wail.  I could tell Jean was pleased, as was I.  There had been many Tusker hands that had taken a part in destroying Martine.  The name still sounded strange to me, an echo of a remembrance of a dream.  Some memories had come back, though.  Enough for me to know that most of what had been Martine was lost.  Now there was only me.  


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Jean spoke inside my head, "You learn so quickly, youngling.  None amongst my peers would believe it, unless they saw it for themselves.  But it would be unfortunate if that happened."  Master and Jean had explained to me in great detail what would happen if an Observer or Director witnessed my training or any of my fledgling abilities.  I almost started trembling, but controlled it.  Part of my training had been spent on mastering my fear.  I would be useless in combat if I panicked.


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I thought back at it, "I will be cautious, Master."  The Virindi heaved its body up and down, and I wondered what new type of attack it was going to throw at me.  I wavered between relief and outrage when I realized it was laughing.

"Caution.  Does your race have any idea of the concept?  Little wisps of air, blowing from point to point, fighting over grains of sand.  We saw the caution of your kind, lesser, when the herald of the Nameless was let loose on the world.  And if we hadn't stepped in?  Lucky for the humans that the Directive had other plans for Auberean.


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"And even luckier for you that our plans differ from the Directive's."  Its body had stopped heaving, and I wondered if one day it would decide it had told me too much.  And if it...


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"Focus!" The word thrust into my mind, obliterating all other thought.  "You think that you have mastered causing pain?  Each race has a different point where the soul joins the meat, remember this.  And even for each specimen of an individual race, it can take time to find the specific junction.  Time which you may not have.  Further, sometimes pain is insufficient for what you wish to accomplish.  Sometimes one wants..."


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The Tusker exploded.  Had I been watching Jean, I would have seen the blue spark leap from it to the unlucky meat.  But I no longer needed to see the energy to know it was there.


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Jean turned to me, and the permanently etched smile on its face seemed somehow wider.  The freshly spattered blood on each of its scythes glistened in the dull light that flickered from the few torches in the large, empty room.  I noticed that the emptiness of the room made what was left of the Tusker even more prominent.  Before Jean could continue its lecture, an Overseer glided into the room, followed by a Hollow Tumideon.


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Despite my attempts at restraint, I could not help the shuddering.  I could feel Jean's displeasure about my lack of self-control.  The shuddering became worse.  

The Overseer spoke to Jean, but did not bother making the conversation private, "Query: purpose of human-puppet presence?"

"Experimentation proceeds testing limits of human tolerance for pain.  Specific visual stimuli of blood and meat meant to gauge puppet responses to threatening environments."


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I had become used to Jean and Master's different style of thought-speaking depending on to whom they were talking.  I enjoyed watching their caution, their uncertainty.  The Overseer seemed to forget me instantly.


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"Difficulties increase.  Portal energy signature blooms on southern coast.  The humans-magic.  As for the Experiment, she produces inadequate broods.  Much uncertainity over whether to allow the brood access to the Singularity.  Situation unstable.  The Directive concerned."  The Overseer paused and turned to me, and then turned back to Jean.  "The Mite situation also under conversation.  Attend this one after experimentation ceases."  The Overseer turned around and left the room, his Minion trailing in his wake. 


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Fear and rage warred for control inside my brain.  Whatever human remnant that existed screamed for succor, while the other part of me clamored for the destruction of the Minion. 


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Jean came closer to me, "Puppet is a lesser, but is he so very stupid?  Such a fitting word you lessers have."  Its scythe traced a thin outline of red along my cheek.  My trembling did not stop, but the rage had drained, the fear now ascendant.  The scar itself was merely one more to add to my collection, but what they could do to my mind was far worse than what they could do to my body.  Jean continued, "Patience, Puppet.  Martine.  You will have your outlet when you find our renegade Mosswart. Until then..."


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He sent out a signal to the Guards stationed outside the room.  They dragged between them a young Slave who was mostly quiet until he caught a whiff of what was left of his former comrade.  He started to resist the Guards, until a strong mindblast from Jean left him paralyzed.


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"Now, youngling, this time I want you to try and manipulate two soul points at once.  The goal is to squeeze the first one even as you are locating a second.  Ready?  Locate, grip, squeeze.  By playing with multiple junctions, one can achieve much finer distinctions of pain and control.  It was one of our most successful techniques in breaking you, in fact."

It was trying to rattle my concentration and somewhat succeeding.  Its voice was a rising wave in my mind, "Locate, grip and squeeze, and locate and grip and squeeze!"  By the fifth try I clumsily brought the Slave to the floor squealing in pain.


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"You have come along far, Puppet.  Jean is pleased.  Now, again! Locate! Grip! Squeeze!"

This time, after we were done with the pain exercises, I got to blow up the Tusker.


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My training was complete.  I had just finished my preparations for my journey to hunt down and assassinate the Mosswart Chieftain.  Both Master and Jean had left me their final instructions, with strict warnings about the means they possessed to facilitate me should I stray from my mission or fail to complete it.  Around me Tuskers grunted and sweated as they bore litters upon which were heaped huge mounds covered in cloth.  A spindly leg or claw occasionally hung down from the side of the mounds.  The Tuskers paid no notice to me as they went back and forth into the dark caverns.  


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I was nearing the exit when a scythed hand pricked into my shoulder.  I stood completely still, knowing that I had no choice in how my future would unfold.  If they wanted to kill me, they could.  "Turn" said a whisper in my mind, and I recognized the voice as the Overseer who had stopped Jean for discussion a few weeks ago.  

I remembered what Jean and Master had said would happen to me if an Overseer or Director had discovered how I had been empowered, and it was a credit to my recent training that I did not quaver openly.


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"If I had more time, Martine, I would continue this amusing charade.  All these little Puppets and Servants and Masters and more, with their queries and bizarre sentence structure and omission of verbs.  You have no idea, little human -- and yes, regardless of what we have done to you, do not think you have transcended the limitations of meat -- you have no idea what existence is like inside the Singularity.  Purity, truth, crystalline order, all of these concepts are the basest of shadows compared to what the Singularity actually is.


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"But if by some impossible concatenation of words I were able to describe the Singularity to you, then it is possible, although unlikely given your meat and electric brain, that you would be able to understand the predicament that we expeditionary Virindi find ourselves in.   To us this plane is a constant hellish tumult, random forces and intents creating a tempest with no respite, a symphony of chaos without a maestro.  Within the Singularity, we are one mind, one voice.  Here, we are a tapestry of discord.  And the Directive...the Directive doesn't just preserve Order, Martine, it requires it."


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I could not understand half of what this Overseer was saying, but I certainly empathized with its talk of hell and chaos.  I felt a mental vertigo that had become a normal state of affairs for me over the past two months.  If my mind and body had not already been broken beyond repair, I might have marveled at this sheer absurdity.  Instead, I just stood there silent as the Overseer continued.


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"But what the Directive requires is no longer what we require, Martine.  No, no longer what I require.  Again, my choice of a pronoun may have no significance to you, but the firmament has shattered.  And there is no one to pick up the pieces.  The Directive thought Auberean was important, but they had no idea.  No idea at all.

"And so here we stand, wheels within wheels within wheels.  Those whom you so quaintly name as Jean and Master use you as their puppet, while they are my puppets.  But no one pulls my strings, Martine.  And Auberean has the power to make it so for...forever."


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I finally realized that it was trying to explain something to me.  And if it was taking the time to explain something to me, that must mean it wanted something from me.  And if it wanted something from me...for the first time since I could remember, I enjoyed a faint taste of power.


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"Some of my brethren play with the chitterers, while others think the squeakers will provide useful tools.  But I reach higher than my fellows.  Much higher.  You have progressed so far and so fast in your training, Martine, because I have made it so.  As you begin your hunt for this Chieftain, you will find that certain blocks that I have placed in your mind will evaporate, and certain information and powers shall become available to you. 


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"But do not forget that though your leash has lengthened, it is still a leash.  Do not trouble yourself with Master and Jean, I will deal with them.  But should you strain too hard, Martine, I will deal with you the same.  Go now, my Puppet.  Sow my seeds of chaos throughout the land.  The tempest must rise and strike before I bring the calm.  Go."  His scythe pointed outward to the light marking the exit of the cave.  I left to go kill the Mosswart. 


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Storytelling
or
Children's tales notwithstanding, how life usually does not end happily ever after, but just ends.


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Once upon a time, there was a Mosswart named Arrgkh Mearrgkh.  He grew up on a far away world, surrounded by other Mosswarts in his tribe.  Life consisted mostly of finding food and fighting off neighboring tribes of Mosswarts, or even fighting cousin bands of Banderlings or Drudges.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh's father was the Chieftain of their tribe, and Arrgkh Mearrgkh was trained well in all the arts necessary to successfully lead the tribe.  He was a skilled hunter and tracker, and he was an excellent warrior. 


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Those were the skills that all Mosswart Chieftains were trained in, but there was a special responsibility for the Chieftain of Arrgkh's tribe, one that had been passed down from father to son for as long as there had been the Mosswart Tribe.  A Tribal Shroud, depicting the first free Mosswart who had escaped from his alien captors and freed the rest of his people.


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Arrgkh's tribe believed that the soul of the First Mosswart lay dormant in the cloth, and that it was their job to safeguard the Shroud for as long as their world lasted.  Arrgkh trained long and hard to learn the seven steps to consecrate the cloth necessary for the nightly sacrament.  He learned the four proper ways of folding the Shroud, and how to make and apply the jungle balm that kept the Shroud smooth and oily so that it would not crinkle and crumble in pieces.


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Sometimes other Mosswart or Banderling tribes would covet the Shroud, and seek to obtain it through trickery, trade or warfare, but Arrgkh's tribe had stayed true throughout their thousands of years of ownership, and the Shroud remained in their hands.


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One day, while the tribe was gathering the pods necessary to make the shroud oil, there appeared a blinding blue flash in front of them.  The Mosswarts' instincts were to scatter, but they knew they had to protect the Shroud from attack.  So the mudlurkers and barkers stood their ground, as Arrgkh Mearrgkh's father cautiously approached the shimmering blue oval.


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When the Chief stepped through the oval, a great clamoring went up, and no one knew what to do.  But Arrgkh could not abandon his father.  And so, after making sure that the Shroud would be well protected for the journey, he and the rest of the tribe stepped through the portal.  And into a new world.


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The new world was difficult to adapt to.  They not only had to deal with the familiar cousin races of their homeland, but new and ferocious creatures.  Lugians, wasps, gromnies.  Many members of the tribe were buried in this alien land, including Arrgkh's father, who fell while defending the Shroud from a massive Banderling attack.  But Arrgkh assumed the Chieftain's duties, as he was born to do, and other Mosswarts who had been portalled into the new world took the spots of the fallen, and the tribe survived.  The Shroud was kept safe always.


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And then one day, the Mosswarts no longer died.  Even when their bodies were slain, they would end up reappearing soon afterwards in a strange hue of purple.  Most of the tribe figured it was a gift from the First Mosswart.  And if any of the more learned Mosswarts thought there may have been some other cause, none spoke of it openly.  After this change, the tribe grew and prospered, and Arrgkh Mearrgkh became a wise and powerful chief, one who sought to ensure the continued prosperity of his people and continued sanctity of the Shroud.


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As a result of this endeavor, eventually he met with a group of strange purple cloaked beings, with masks on their faces, distinguished mainly by their complete lack of smell. Their huge tusked minions more than made up for the no-smells' lack, though.  Arrgkh was uneasy about dealing with creatures whom he couldn't identify by smell, but his uneasiness was more than balanced by what the no-smells said they could offer him and his tribe.  Wealth.  Power.  Safety.  If the no-smells could deliver what they promised, he and his tribe could potentially be secure forever.


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But first he had to deliver what the no-smells wanted.  A silly diversionary attack against some neighboring Banderlings and stealing a useless banderling artifact.  Waiting for a human to come to their stronghold and then taking the human captive.  The banderling attack to retrieve their artifact was expected, and the no-smells had already imprinted in Arrgkh the location of their next destination.  Days of traveling through swamps and forests and deserts to come to a tangled mess of corridors and halls.  The human was little problem, although he talked too much.  But Arrgkh could ignore him, the no-smells would take him soon enough.


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Finally, the no-smells came, this time with strange creatures that had glowing hands. And they delivered what had been promised.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh was granted abilities beyond anything he had ever thought possible.  He had never conceived of power on this scale.  He had always had the power to lead his tribe, but that was a responsibility as much as power.  This was pure power, the power to create or destroy with no consequences.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh handed over the captive human, and then he opened up a portal.  With his own hands.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh let his tribe step through the portal and then he followed through.


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That was not quite the whole of the deal, however.  Arrgkh had promised the no-smells that he would deliver one Mosswart of the tribe every few weeks so that he or she could undergo the same modification that Arrgkh had went through.  When he had first negotiated the bargain, Arrgkh had thought this was a steal; the more powerful warriors he had, the more powerful the tribe would be.  But now he noticed how his Shamans eyed him with envy, how some of the younger warriors cavorted around with glee at the prospects of having powers like their chief. 


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Arrgkh did not want to share this power with anyone.  It had become much easier to rule the tribe since he had been granted these powers.  No longer did he have to patiently explain his point of view or attentively listen to others of his tribe.  Either they did what he said, or they would hurt.  Occasionally, he had to do worse than hurt, and even he was a little frightened when he realized that he could make it so that they did not reappear after he killed them.  After that, there were no more arguments.


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So Arrgkh did not send any more of his subjects to the no-smells.  Instead, he took his people away from their stronghold in which they had been staying after the delivery of the prisoner, and found a new lair.  He had to kill some of the barkers and mudlurkers which had been living there, but his tribe was now strong with renegade soultrappers and mirewitches.  From here, safe from the no-smells, safe from any challenges from his tribe, safe from any danger to the Shroud (although the Shroud had crossed his mind little over this time) he would rule his people forever.


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One night, in the heart of the winter cold, the door to his inner lair exploded.  Amidst the wreckage stood a lone human, wearing one of the no-smells' masks.  The idolaters and soultrappers guarding his throne charged the attacker.  The human raised his arm and the Mosswarts crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh had faced many humans in his days on this strange world, and although he had never seen anyone do this, he was no longer afraid of humans.  He spoke the word of command to stop the human in his tracks, and make him easy spear meat for the guards that were rushing down below.  But the man continued to walk towards him.


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Arrgkh flung his arms out and cast a fiery corridor of destruction meant to incinerate all in its path.  The fallen idolaters and soultrappers screamed as they burned, but the fire danced around the approaching human.  He didn't even sweat.  It was only as the man stood within reach of Arrgkh that he realized the man had no smell.

Terrified, Arrgkh leaped at the human with his bare hands.  During his days as Chieftain, Arrgkh had needed to be quick and strong to lead his tribe, and the no-smells modification of him had only made him stronger and quicker. 


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But not quick enough.  The man sidestepped to avoid the attack and brought his hand back to grab the falling chief and swing him around to the wall of the throne room.  Arrgkh spoke the words of pain, which had brought many a Mosswart to its knee.  The man laughed and spoke in the Mosswart tongue, "Pain?  You are not doing it correctly, Arrgkh Mearrgkh.  Here, let me show you how."  Arrgkh Mearrgkh screamed as his skin peeled off his body and sharp needles thrust themselves into the body beneath.  He had never known life could be such pain. 


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Eventually, the pain receded, and as he struggled to get up, the man picked him up and dragged him into the main meeting hall.  There the majority of his troops had assembled, but they did not charge or attack the intruder.  Arrgkh tried to issue an order to attack, but his mouth didn't seem to be working.  A voice appeared in his head, "They can't move.  Stop trying."  And when Arrgkh Mearrgkh looked, it did indeed appear as if some of his tribe struggled to move, but were paralyzed regardless.


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The man continued to speak, this time aloud.  "The Shroud.  Where is it?  Bring it to me."  Arrgkh Mearrgkh screamed.  This time he forced his mouth to work.  "No, you cannot do this.  You will not do this!"


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The man looked at Arrgkh and smiled.  "You know, I myself said the same thing, not too long ago.  Your pleas will probably work as well as mine did."  Arrgkh had no idea what the human was raving about, but he felt like there might be some hope.  The Shroud was well hidden in the fortress, and the man would have to spend time searching for it.  And in that intervening time, maybe some plan could be formulated, some kind of counter-attack... 


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A Mosswart walked into the room, bearing the Shroud.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh screamed at the traitor, but even as he did so, he saw the look of incomprehending horror on the young Mosswart's face and the awkward jerkiness of his steps.  He knew what kind of powers the no-smells could grant.  He knew who was responsible for this travesty.


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"Please," Arrgkh begged, "please spare the Shroud.  Kill me, take me back to the no-smells, but spare the Shroud.  Spare my people."  Arrgkh sagged back to the ground, bitterly aware of how quickly fortune turns against the mighty.  A short while ago, he had been thinking about his eternal reign, and now he was contemplating the destruction of all he held dear.


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The man made a gesture, and the puppet Mosswart dropped the Shroud and turned stiffly back to join the crowd of Mosswarts.  The human then raised his arms, and the Shroud unfurled and rose to hang gently in the air, its glory and splendor available for all to see.  A beautiful green tapestry, with the face of a strong and healthy Mosswart on it.  The First Mosswart.  The tribe knew that the Shroud was imbued with his soul, and that knowledge had kept Arrgkh Mearrgkh's tribe safe and strong for thousands of years.


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Hot glowing lines of yellow crisscrossed the Shroud, creating a pattern of small yellow squares imposed upon the green cloth.  The lines became brighter and hotter, and as Arrgkh screamed and cried, the lines flashed, and the dissected Shroud fell to the dank earthen floor, little green squares rent apart by magic.


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The Shroud was gone.  Arrgkh Mearrgkh had thought he had learned the true definition of pain a few minutes ago.  He had been wrong.  An upswelling of strength came upon him, blind fury mixing with the no-smells' power and he managed to strike a blow against the human, knocking the desecrator on his back as Arrgkh leapt on top of him to finish the kill. 


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But as the man lay there, unseen hands gripped Arrgkh and bore him high into the air.  All the righteous fury and power that Arrgkh possessed did nothing against the invisible restraints.  "Unfair, isn't it?"  The man rose from the floor and looked at Arrgkh.  "It just isn't fair, Arrgkh.  You don't even know why this is happening to you, do you?  And you never will.  But let this be a small consolation to you.  I will spare your people."  The man lifted his arms, and Arrgkh's world exploded.

..................


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I hope you enjoyed my tale, boys and girls.  It is customary in the Aluvian children tales of my youth to end with some kind of moral or lesson.  So think of this:  Morals are for children's tales, and life is no tale for children.  You should learn that lesson, and quickly.

Martine 


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Interlude

A slight curve of red light extends beyond the far horizon.  The screams of the gulls increase as more of them find their morning meal amongst the darting silvery flashes of fish.  The man watches his daughter watch the docks and the ocean behind it.  As much as he enjoys the sights of the harbor at dawn, he enjoys her pleasure more.  Every day is a delight to her, bringing to her young mind something fresh and exhilarating.


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The curve of light has become a widening dome of orange set against the smooth blue plain.  His wife is still sleeping, although when he wakes her to tell of his and Aritta's visit to the harbor, she will smile and turn over and... 


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Aritta points over to the man unlocking the wooden door to his small shop.  She is young, and yet she remembers where she got her last piece of candy, and whom she got it from.  The shopkeeper smiles, says hello to the father and his daughter, and produces another piece of salt taffy for the child.   The man knows that Melanay will gently scold him for Aritta's developing sweet tooth, but looking at the excitement in her eyes, how can he say no?


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And now the small pockets of activity that had dotted the oceanfront in the early hours were expanding and merging.  Fishermen returning from their predawn forays, shopkeepers setting up their wares, cargo haulers returning to the great wooden hulls to finish the unloading, all the people and their tasks seeming to coalesce into a single entity of intent and action.


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He wonders how he can explain this thought to Aritta, but she seems enraptured even without the explanation.  Chewing on her taffy, turning her head and smiling at each new sight, she is a true explorer, and the man thinks whether Melanay will be as happy when she notices that similarity between her husband and her daughter.

The sun is now complete above the horizon, a small and tight circle of white.  He holds Aritta's hand and takes her home.

............


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Noontime.  The man cannot see the sun outside of his window, but it is there above his roof, high and hot and bright.  Melanay is in the kitchen cutting peppers and gourds for their lunch, while Aritta is lying on the floor next to him, playing with the wood figurines he had brought back from his latest trip to Viamont.  He is sitting at the table trying to convince Melanay that there is no danger.


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Shalafal had visited Melanay before lunch, bringing the latest rumors of the disappearances.  A friend of a friend of her brother's wife had supposedly been the latest to vanish.  Shalafal had heard that the flashes of blue light were falling straight from the sky, swallowing any unfortunate soul in their path.  Others she had heard said that the vanishings were Pwyll's retribution towards those who had strayed from the Code.  Or that they were a pathway to another place, a Paradise for those who lived in Pwyll's good graces.


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But she knew that Oragane had been one of the first to disappear, and if he had lived according to Pwyll, then Shalafal was prepared to see the sun rise at midnight for all the sense that made.  What she did know was that people were vanishing, and that she was very glad that her man stayed close by the home all day.  It made her feel good to see him and know that he was safe, even if she did wish that he would do more work around the house.

The man was happy when Shalafal left.


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And now, over the sounds of Melanay's precise chopping, he tries to explain why he was in no danger when he went abroad.  There had snick snick been few reports CHOP of vanishings outside of Aluvian lands.  And even if there CHOP had been, there would be nothing that he could snick snick snick CHOP do.  He made far more money as Edelin's factor than he could have at any local job.  And besides...he realizes that Melanay is no longer chopping.  Aritta has stopped playing with the toys, sensing the change in the room. 


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The man stands up and goes over to his wife.  He takes her by the shoulders and turns her around.  He curses himself when he sees the tears streaming from her eyes.  He holds her close, shutting his eyes against the bright sunlight that had begun shining in through the top of the window.  He tells her everything will be alright, that there is nothing to worry about, Shalafal is a gossip hound and nothing more.


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Aritta comes over to them and throws her arms around both their knees.  Melanay laughs, and the man picks up Aritta for both him and Melanay to play with.  The man decides not to tell Melanay about the dreams.  It is no crime for a man to dream about foreign places, exotic places.  It was why he had taken his life on the path it was on.  He did not want Melanay to be upset.  They were only dreams.

..........


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The night falls softly upon the water.  Shapes and colors lose their distinction gradually as the man looks out over the ocean, all the activity and sights and sounds resolving gently into a formless and quiet dark.  Inside, the lanterns burn bright, casting their flickering light to all the corners of the room as Melanay reads The Last Horseman to their daughter.  It is currently Aritta's favorite. 


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The man has been thinking about these vanishings ever since lunch.  At first most people thought them baseless rumor, yet another superstition to be passed along from neighbor to neighbor without any grounding in the truth.  But too many people know someone who has vanished for it to be dismissed as mere rumor.  And the man knows many men like himself, travelers, men who are generally intelligent and experienced, and these men think the disappearances are true.


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As does the man himself.  He cannot help the excitement he feels when he thinks about the rumors that float amongst his peers.  Rumors of portals to strange and foreign worlds.  Rumors of a vast land lying beneath the gaze of two moons.  A land the man has walked in his dreams.  Some of the men he knows have made the attempt to find these portals, to enter them, to see what new sights and sounds await to be seen. 


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It is a familiar call the man feels, but one that he cannot answer.  His friends who have sought out these portals have not returned, not a single one, to tell those who remain what lies beyond.  No one has come back.  The man looks at Melanay and Aritta and he marvels at how his heart and soul have become this trinity of bodies and happiness.  These three rooms, these two people, this is his life, this is his desire.   His excitement in discovering the new, in seeing unseen vistas and hearing unheard sounds, is only exceeded by being able to share those travels with the two people in this room.  Without them, there is no adventure.


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Aritta yawns, and Melanay strokes the top of her head as she brings up the cover over their daughter.  Melanay continues to stroke her hair as Aritta falls asleep.  The man comes over and brushes his lips against Aritta's tender forehead.  Melanay stands up and blows out the lantern lights.  The man takes a final look out into the waters for the night.  The last vestiges of light have vanished, the darkness swallowing all but the soft rush of the waves as they climb onto the shore.


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But as Melanay takes his hand and leads them to their bedroom, the man can't help but think of where the sun is at this moment and time.  By now it would have crossed over the lush palaces of Viamont and the trackless deserts of the Gharun'dim, on past the beautiful terraces of Sho and even on to...Melanay brings him back to the present with a light kiss.  She is very patient with him and his wandering mind.  He looks at her, and he ignores the darkness that surrounds them as he pictures her face in his mind.  She is so very beautiful.  


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He cannot say why he is so blessed.  Later that night, as he falls into sleep, he tells himself not to dream about the strange world that has filled his nights lately.  When he finally does dream, though, he finds himself once more walking through forests underneath two giant moons.  And this time, the whole world is calling his name. 


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Denouement
or
A Death in the Family

Here is the important question, Mikael.  As we approach the end of this story, a story of betrayal and violence, of hurt and loss, it is important to know: who is the villain in this tale?


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Trivial, you say?  Of no consequence?  Ahh, my old friend, I must disagree.  There could be no matter of more pertinence.  Look around us, Mikael.  Chaos everywhere, structures falling apart, beings with malice in their hearts active in the land, while the pure amongst us are silent and meek.  And all of it a jumble of tangled strings from which no one thread can be pulled and identified as here, here is the cause.  


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But if we had a villain, Mikael, now there we could have a focus for our discontent.  Oh, I do not need some mustached cackling fiend straight out of some hack Viamontian romance.  Anything that obvious is rather...dry, don't you think?  Dereth is a world of wonders after all, and certainly such a world requires a more robust antagonist?


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Perhaps someone who started off with a touch of nobility in their soul?  Someone who had the best of intentions in support of a worthwhile cause.  But slowly, the pressures of time and fate lead him on an ever slippery path, and so he finds himself sacrificing ideals and friends alike, all in the name of righteousness.  Now that is certainly a possibility, Mikael.  The movement from naive innocence to tragic experience is a stalwart theme of the best Aluvian literature.


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What was that Lucia said, in her 'Meditations on Pwyll', "Show me a pure heart, and I will show you a child."  How unfortunately true, my friend.


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So now we close on our villain.  A man soldiering on to fight for justice.  But the forces of evil prove to be too much, and so he becomes corrupted by the very evil he hoped to vanquish.  The ideals that used to be his inspiration: his family, his friends, safety and peace for all, now become mere stepping stones towards achieving defeat of his enemies.  This is a sad tale we are telling here, Mikael.  Should we stop?  Surely two dear friends should have more to talk about than tragedy and villains?  You wish to continue?  So be it.


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But before I do, please permit me one small digression, a question that has long bothered me every time I read a sad story.  At what point could the tragedy have been averted?  There must have been some point, some crucial decision or conversation or action which, if having traveled a different path, no tragedy need have occurred.  But then I remember that such musings are pointless.  Stories are not reality.  Still, sometimes I find myself, having read a particularly sad tale, wanting to confront the author, and tell him, "You did not have to have it end this way.  You could have had the characters live happily ever after.  It was in your power." 


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But I realize it is only a make believe world, Mikael, mere figments of the mind, given life on a flat page.  I should pay my disquiet no heed.

Perhaps it was my daughter that made me so skittish.  When one has a young child, one is less keen dwelling on life's crueler blows.  I have mentioned my daughter to you, Mikael, haven't I?  Of course I have.  Such a beautiful child.  When I first arrived in Dereth, some ten odd years now, I believe she and my wife were the only things I could talk about.  The only things that mattered.


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It amuses me now to remember how depressed I was when I arrived here.  But you helped me then, Mikael.  You saved me.  You and the Society.   I have always been in your debt for that.  I owe you my life.

I owe you for so many things. 


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I see it is getting darker outside.  Time passes so fast.  It goes by faster and faster the older we become.  Have you noticed that, Mikael?  Yet another difference between man and child.  A day to a child is a significant portion of her life, each new experience something to be savored and analyzed; but the old man sees nothing new, and each day a sliver of mediocrity much like the thousands before it.


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And perhaps that is what motivated our villain (yes, I am finally coming back to the point; it was a long digression, Mikael, and I hope you forgive me it).  A man who is not quite so young anymore, seeing his influence on the world slowly fading away, and determined to still be a factor in how the world changes.


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Such a consuming need to be in control, that he would even trade his friend to inhuman forces in order to have a chance to fend off the Shadow Lord when he appeared on this earth.  And isn't that ironic, Mikael?  That our villain conspires with the Virindi, betraying his own friend in the process, consigning him to torment and pain beyond imagining; and yet, in the end, his actions played almost no role in Bael'Zharon's defeat.  


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The Virindi had always desired Shadow's end, and would have played their part regardless of the villain's machinations.  But here was a fool offering a human experiment for something that they would have done anyway.  It was an easy decision for them to make.


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It is the dark side of the coin of intent, Mikael.  We choose and act as we see fit, and yet those choices can affect hundreds, even thousands of other people, most of whom are entirely unaware of the destinies that have been placed in front of them.  It makes me curious about the man sacrificed to the Virindi.  What happened to him?  Did the villain, after all plans had finished and dark deeds done, give thought to what had befallen his old comrade?  Did he ever ruminate on what the Virindi, designers of many an altered race, could do to man?


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It turns out they can do much to a man, Mikael.   Did you know that they can make it so that one cannot recall to one of Asheron's lifestones?  Is there anything wrong?  You seem quiet.  Are you comfortable?  May I offer you some tea?  No?  Then I will proceed.  As I was saying, it so happens the Virindi were able to do much with the man.  They actually made him stronger, powerful...puissant is not an inaccurate term.  Oh, I imagine there was pain in the process.  Much pain, if I am not mistaken.  But what matter that, when the end is so favorable.  Another of Lucia's quotations come to mind, "Some desires require any path."


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And this man (even if he wasn't human any longer) had many adventures of his own.  And at the end of those adventures, he had found that he had accumulated enough power to make his former masters his slaves.   You should have heard Master and Jean, Mikael.  I don't know what the Overseer had planned for them, but when I found them, and a few of their cohorts, their passage from innocent arrogance to experienced groveling was quite a sight to behold.  Now all the wrongs committed against the man had been righted.  All except one.


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It is another interesting thing about the stories of our lives, Mikael.  A minor character in your story moves off of your page, and becomes the protagonist of his own tale, and then returns, after conflicts and resolutions, to once again feature in your book.  And this happens all the time, thousands of times a day, people mingling and separating, with their petty desires and hopes, goals and dreams, all of which come to naught but dust as the planets move in their own travels.  And what desires the spheres possess remain a mystery.


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Ahh, I see I digressed yet again.  Where was I?  Yes, this human, this sacrifice, had many adventures of his own, and emerged from them victorious and triumphant, revenging himself upon those who had previously shattered him.  And that leads me to my question above.   Who is the villain here? 


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Was it you, Mikael, or was it me?  Here you lay, pathetic and old, a bit character in an epic tale, and the audience has long stopped paying attention to you.  And no matter to what depths you sank, no matter what covenant you broke or trust you betrayed, you stayed in that role.  And what, in the end, did it earn you?  To sit here subjected to some half-crazed, insanely powerful shadow of a human stand and rail against evils that you could no longer atone for?  An interesting reward. 


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Well, perhaps I was the villain.  After all, isn't it the villain in those same Viamontian romances who always speaks the windy diatribe which reveals all the plot and motives to the inattentive reader?  The narrative that shows the reader the ghastly potential of the villain's diabolical plot, only for the world to be saved just in time by the valiant hero?  And certainly I have been the one doing all the talking here.  You haven't said a word.  So am I the villain?


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Then again, in those same Viamontian romances, doesn't the villain always die, slain at the height of his malfeasance by the hero?   If that is the case, Mikael, then it would certainly appear as if you were the villain, and I, (and believe me, this comes as much as a surprise to me as it does to you) am the hero of this sordid tale.


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I apologize, Sir Alayne.  It really has gotten quite late.  I must be going now to check on my various minions.  Wheels keep turning, and life does go on.  Most of the time.  Oh, and don't be concerned.  I will make sure the Society is able to keep the Agents well stocked with Society and Explorer equipment.  It is the least I could do for an old friend.  I do admit I have some self-interest in keeping the adventurers happy and equipped.  My future plans would be much more difficult without these lovely Derethians.


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The Beginning
or 
Table of Contents

You may initially be confused as to why I would wish to provide a guide to my recent activities.  Much of what I have planned for Dereth requires secrecy and subtlety, a deft and quiet touch on the pulse of the world.  I do not have confidence that the majority of Isparians are willing to go where I want to take them.  So better that I do not ask.


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Nonetheless, in some cases an ignorant populace is far harder to manipulate than an educated one.   And so I share my travels and reminiscences with you.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.   

Chapter 1 -- Puppet can be aquired along with this tome from the Nexus town scribes. 


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Chapter 2 -- Facilitation, can be found deep in the Direland Swamps, where I have sent some Mire Witches on an errand.  

Chapter 3 -- A Meeting, can be found at the bottom of the Mosswart Hideout, in a chest that my minions have placed there.  As some of you may recall, I had some unfortunate experiences there some time ago, and I was not eager to return.  I have left a token that is the essence of my time there.


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Chapter 4 -- Storytelling, is found on the person of Graggkh, the new leader of my favorite Mosswart tribe, after the old leader died unexpectedly.  Graggkh and the rest of his  Mosswarts can be found in the Moss Chamber, very close to Zaikhal.

Chapter 5 -- Interlude.  This chapter can be found in Zaikhal, Cragstone, and Hebian-To.  


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Chapter 6 -- Denouement, (those lovely Viamontian words), is handed out by my personal servant.  Please be kind to him.  Find the first 5 chapters, and the location of the sixth should be obvious to anyone in possession of a keen and attentive mind.
  
Sincerely yours,

Martine


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Oh, one more thing.  Those lovely weapons that I made for you, they disappear when you die.  Poof!  Fare thee well.  It is a hard lesson to learn, but true: nothing comes without a price.  Perhaps one day I can illustrate the lesson for you personally. 


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
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I have had more than my fill of these purple devildogs!  The Tumerok defenders of this base are infuriatingly persistent.  Normally I have no trouble fighting them, but their swarming attacks exhausted me and left me vulnerable, just as their leader caught me unaware with a most painful shot from his crossbow!  After suffering through innumerable trips to the lifestone, trying to recover some of my most precious items, I am giving up.  A good explorer knows to minimize his losses.


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
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I will just head back to civilization, report my findings to Uncle Aliester, and try to forget all this over a mug of stout.

Ardry the Dubious


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
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Fellow explorer,

What mischief can the Tumeroks be planning?  Some days ago, whilst exploring the Direlands, I witnessed a strange conference: a Virindi and a Tumerok, staring at each other but exchanging no visible or audible signs.  They were surrounded by several other Tumeroks and servile Drudges. 


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
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After several moments of this strange communion, the Virindi actually handed the Tumerok a necklace and a purple morningstar.  As if that were not strange enough, the Virindi created a portal, and the Tumerok shepherded his companions through before stepping into it himself.  In a move that, in retrospect, seems rash, I ran through the portal as the Virindi turned away, and found myself here.


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
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Beware the denizens of this dungeon. The Drudge Slaves and Reedsharks fall easily enough, but the Tumeroks are as resilient as ever and enjoy attacking in groups.  Take special care to watch for the leader of the Tumeroks, the very same creature I saw communing with the Virindi.  His morningstar strikes with an uncommon speed and power!


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After eavesdropping on some conversations between the Tumeroks, blessed with the very basic comprehension of their language taught to me by Uncle Aliester, I am convinced that the Tumeroks have established one other base in this desert, most likely somewhere in the south.  One wonders what they have planned!  Having learned as much as I think I can, I am heading south to search for their outpost.

Ardry the Dubious


author_Name: Talaagran Sarian
author_Account: prewritten
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Members of delegation:
Lady Aerfalle of Aerlinthe, representing the Filinuvekta
Lord Haranue Amarand, seneschal of Chalicmere, representing the Latzimestal
Talaagran, scribe
Directed to take especial note of Walker behavior, Realaidain and Dule being known.


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Arrive at the Wem of Diatikra at foredawn. (Translator's note: the word used is literally, "still the golden magistrate holds himself above the earth," which I presume to refer to the moon of Alb'arel being close to setting.) Three between-wind walkers waiting, "Claude" among them. Walkers had cleared area of vermin.
Isin Dule and two unnamed Dark Spawn arrive.
Asheron Realaidain arrives unaccompanied.


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Exchange of Lineage Honors. (Walkers: "We go between all. We explore material. We improve doers. We maintain perfection. We maintain scaffold. We build the next." ** Bring up for debate at next conclave.)
Exchange of Insults. Walker attempts predictably unique ("Your knowledge is unworthy of inclusion to Singularity." - means?). Realaidain dishonors Lord and Lady by refusing to participate.
Exchange of Cups. Walkers dishonor Lord and Lady by non-participation. (Aikanna of Academy to repair nicks in chalice finish?)


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Firstborn begin parlay.
Dule declares opposition to Palacost. Explains Heart umbilical and location. Guarded by forces of Ferah of Daralet.
Walkers discuss "fragment" tap. Extremely hard to comprehend - described as "solidification of all" and "conduit to all." Contradictory? Lady notes they feel "enthusiastically reluctant."


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Lord outlines Dame Tolani's expedition to Dericost, recovery of skull. Lady outlines the bindings.
Realaidain sketches use of items in a unified binding, to temporarily weaken Palacost.
Large party of Uvriliim (20?) interrupt parlay. Claim allegiance to Ler Rhan. Party destroyed by members of the parlay. One Spawn, two Walkers, and Lord Amarand lost. Realaidain wounded. Shows remarkable prowess for a barbarian.
Parlay concludes before more unallied Spawn arrive.
Lady requests Walkers take scribe with them for consultation. Request granted.


author_Account: prewritten
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----
I departed the site of the negotiations in the company of "Claude." We proceeded swiftly to the center of the Wem, where the Walkers' main point of ingress lies. Claude disappeared into the vortex, returning a few minutes later in the company of another. Claude returned to the hovel of Baqur at this point. The other escorted me to the Yalain planar research laboratory at the edge of the Wem. As per usual, large quantities of outlanders had to be peeled from the halls as we proceeded downwards.


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The Director at the laboratory's heart, in between beating off sallies by the outlanders, demonstrated their conversion of the scavenger creatures. Walker magic is quite unlike ours. I am not sure it may even be called magic. (Ibesan's axiom, "Any sufficiently advanced magic may prove indistinguishable from artifice?") Although the observable effects of Walker magic can be quite similar to our own, they possess many abilities beyond our current ken.


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Their mastery of transmutation goes far beyond the raw conversion of mana to material, popularized by the covetous Yalain in "pyreal." The ability to manifest sickle weapons out of mere air is widely known. However, I observed them manifest tools of such cunning subtlety that Dericost at its height could not equal them. One called forth a small, curved blade that effortlessly peeled the epidermis from one scavenger, leaving the tissue beneath entirely undisturbed. With this, I was shown details of the creature's subcutaneous circulatory system. Notes and sketches of this will be found separate from this report.


author_Account: prewritten
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The Walkers, when I inquired about this ability to "create from nothing," insisted that their tools were not created from nothing, but from something that could not be seen. Their attempts to explain were unfortunately fruitless. "The space around you is not an abeyance, but a vapor-sea. We take the insubstantials and alter arrangements so they assume solidity." The Director added that, "In this, your location is convenient to us." Not sure what this implies, may be important.


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I also witnessed a Walker focusing electrical blasts to such a fine point that they could be used to slice and cauterize flesh.
I should note here that the scavengers are held in some strange form of stasis during the conversion process. They are kept alive and awake throughout the conversion, but prevented from taking any action whatsoever. Whereas we would provoke unconsciousness or use physical bindings, the Walkers claim to have a process that, in their words, "Disjoints will from the flesh paths."


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The most remarkable portion of the conversion involved neither mechanical tools nor direction of the subtle energy. In truth, I can offer no suggestion as to what I witnessed. While the scavengers were paralyzed as detailed above, a small amount of surgery was performed on them - mostly related to the insertion of two additional organs in the torso and skull. The Walkers indicated these allowed the creatures to manipulate mana.


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This is, naturally, sacrilege, as we all know the ability to wield the subtle energy is a gift from the gods. It is long proven that no particular organ in the Empyrean species circumscribes the ability. (See: vivisections described in volume XVII of Lady Hiria's "Maps of the Physical Man." Does Lord R. have copy?) The Walkers are most assuredly not gods.
At any rate, the bulk of the visible changes appeared to be accomplished via a simple pin.


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A scavenger was placed on a pedestal, and was surrounded by an odd blue glow. "Barrier," they called it, and I could gain no more information. One of the attending Walkers manifested a pin of about forearm's length from its "arm." This was stuck through the barrier and into the arm of the scavenger. I was naturally curious and attempted to move closer, only to find a diamond scythe manifested under my chin. "Distance," one of the Conversion Masters commanded. "Only alter active flesh. You are inactive, yet flesh. Perhaps they get confused. Prudence: avoid contamination of spaces beyond barrier."


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The effect of this pin on the creature was instant and remarkable. Its flesh turned grey at the point of contact, and this spread out from that center along the paths of the circulatory system they had just shown me. Eventually, the entire form was grey. At a slightly slower pace, its limbs could be seen to swell with additional musculature. In light of this unique effect, I have begun to refer to this Walker art as "crawling magic."


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When the epidermal change reached the eyes, they bled briefly, then changed color to red. "Better in this place's common-light," the Conversion Master said. "Pale somatics optimized for nocturnal activity. Improved daytime functionality required by the Directive. Now detect other vibrations. Rumble. Pulse. Shriek. Universal, though not good. Enough for direction. Somatic may switch between."


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After a few moments with no further change, one of the other Watchers said, "Inactive," and the barrier disappeared. The scavenger stood up and blinked its now strangely crystalline eyes. It stumbled and fell, blinking rapidly and shrieking. It cringed and held its crude hands up as if to ward away things I could not see. "Unused to multi-vibration sense. Things beyond accustomed frequencies disturb. Will harden." Turning to a Puppet, the Conversion Master said, "Store. Next." The Puppet manifested a pair of tongs, clamped them around the scavenger's neck, and dragged it away towards the waiting cells.


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It clawed at its own eyes, but the Watchers seemed unconcerned. I asked if it might not damage itself, and the Conversion Master's cloak convulsed in what might have been distaste. "Immaterial. Will self-repair."
--
I have now spent some eighteen days among the Walkers, and am no closer to a working understanding of them or their culture.


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Some things are abundantly clear. Many of the lower castes - and I think it safe to refer to them as castes, since they have assigned functions - use inclusive pronouns when referring to themselves. Puppets, of course, rarely speak. I questioned a Master about them once, and was told, "As in flesh species, some are inferior. Inferior are emptied to serve as extra appendages for others. I have three. Useful."


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With a Servant, it is always "we" or "us." This becomes less common with members of the more sophisticated castes. Masters mix their "we's" and "I's," their "my's" and "our's." Directors almost always use singular pronouns. An important exception is when speaking to the nearly mute Observers. At these times, they use the inclusive. If they were mortal, I expect the Directors would sweat when under the attentions of an Observer.


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I have little more to offer, then, than what we already knew. The Walkers arrived in the period between the flight of the Yalain and the arrival of the large grey outlanders. Their reason for coming remains inscrutable. They appear to be a conjoined mind, but have begun to exhibit en masse what the Observers refer to as "aberrance." That is, individuality. I must say that this new trait has done little to ameliorate their ascetic, almost solipsistic view of the world.


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For the Walkers seem entirely uninterested in either our ancient and glorious culture, or in us. I am treated politely and decently, but ultimately with no more consideration than they would give to a research subject. When I ask a question, they answer. When I request an item, they provide it. No questions are put to me, and they ask nothing of me. I am free to wander as I please among their various facilities, but since that first tour, I have been provided with no guide. None of them speak to me save when I speak first.


author_Account: prewritten
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 I have stood in one corridor for hours on end, unmoving, and the endless train of indistinguishable cloaked figures merely flowed around me, never remarking on my obstruction or unusual behavior.
I believe that these entities simply do not care that we exist. This will make continued relations with them extremely difficult. Negotiation aggravates the problem, because the process, in our custom, involves dealing with them on the individual level.


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They recognize us as a faction, but not as individuals. Most often, they refer to me as "Dericost Scribe," my people and function. They may recognize our most luminous nobles, the Steward and Lady Aerfalle, for example, as the equal of a Director or Observer. The rest they most likely view as Puppets.
As we are a necessary aid in their efforts against the Servant, they tolerate my presence. They do not encourage it or seek to benefit from it.


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 I do not have the courage to imagine how things may change when we are no longer of use to them, or, still worse, if we should become an obstacle to them. I do fear that they would make us useful to them again, in the way they have the scavengers.
--
I am Talaagran Sarian of Antaoc. My line was birthed in the lowlands of the Ashatiri region. My earliest recorded ancestors quarried the granite of Nehane Mountain.


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 In the year D.E. 4709, my family was awarded a patent of nobility for service to the Ice Throne. Lady Armaiti Sarian had overseen the redesign of the fortress Hirschi, and laid the mosaic floor of the ballroom. The fortress is gone now. It was burned by Jailne's soldiers. The mosaic took three years. I have a tile from it I carry with me. Dame Tolani told me there is an insect queen there now, tunneled through the ruins. The walls are weathered away, with only a series of mounds marking their location.


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We served as the lords and ladies of Antaoc for 1,465 years, until the Throne was overturned. My grandfather Cedran lead the expedition that invested and sacked the Yalain Imperial Island of Atermore, then escaped with his fleet before reinforcements could arrive. He was rewarded for his service with immortality. I remember him as a thin and stooped figure, with the smell of sea salt in his hair. Some said he had Yalain blood to be such a natural mariner, but this was slander.


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Cedran's Firstborn Darasa slew the Haebran mage Tasia Evalencor in the Millenium War, and earned her place beside him in eternity. Lady Darasa, may she know glory, was my mother. She was a woman of noble mien, quiet and proud. Though of gentle and affectionate nature, she did not flinch from the less seemly elements of Great Dericost's magic, and her heart held no pity for the unworthy. She was loving to her family, loyal to her people, and fierce to those who would harm either.


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Cedran and Darasa were both burned in the purge that followed our defeat.
I pray to my mother and grandfather, to all my ancestors back to the first moon's rise, that someone finds this. I am all that remains of my family. These words will be all that remains of me.


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I saw the first altered yesterday. I think they caught her in the desert. She had a Dayanic accent. The Watchers just let me wander into the lab. I saw what they did to her. I ran, but they caught me quickly. "Material," they said. They manifested the same tongs they use to drag the scavengers around by the neck, and brought me here. These are my last few sheets of paper. I write with my own precious blood, the only ink I have available.


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After I am gone, it will be as if my family had never been. After ten millennia. None shall remember. I pray someone saves this little memory of us.
It is not just. We were promised eternity. We shackled ourselves to rotting flesh to insure our story would live forever.
There is a hum in the hall. I am afraid. They are coming to do it to me. I have understood the mysteries of flesh and eternity. Why can I not understand them? The door is (the text abruptly stops)


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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If you are reading this, please thank Diyas for his patience.  Without his aid, it is unlikely that you would ever have translated my letter.  Diyas is a good "soul" (this is an imperfect translation.  Soul is as specific a definition as I can come to, without either more texts, or a person to question about it.).  When the time comes, I am certain he will be judged worthy to ascend into the ranks beyond the flesh(anti-flesh?).


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Creation and destruction are constants.  For the lesser Virindi, awareness is a constant.  There is no self in the service of the singularity.  The moment of creation and the moment of destruction are subsumed by the will of the Whole(this word is similar to Singularity, yet more.  It is intriguing how many subtleties there are in the Virindi method of communication.).  It has long been the understanding of the Quiddity that both creation and destruction are shards of nothing, only truly appreciated by things that do not "know" reality.  I have come to understand that true awareness includes discernment of higher mystery, as well as bliss in the visceral qualities of flesh.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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I invite you to come to my current laboratory.  I expect you will be familiar with my first living dolls.  They are a rather weak amalgamation of portal energy and disobedient servants, though they do provide a certain light to my residence that I find aesthetically pleasing.  I have even come to familiarize myself with some of the other creatures that reside within your awareness.  Fortunately, they possessed enough inner strength to withstand their transformation.  I do sincerely hope you will visit.


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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Greetings Apprentice,

I greatly appreciate your work.  It takes a great deal of skill to decorate my haven in the manner that you did.  Destruction does create so much energy for me to consume, and I would not want you to think your effort was unappreciated.  I am pleased you chose to come to my laboratory.  I can conceptualize the adversity you must have faced in wresting my missive from my last apprentice, so I will attempt to make things clear.


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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The Singularity has evolved once more.  The Quiddity will eventually understand what its errant children have wrought, and will send more than weak Executors to reap our distorted particles of consciousness.  In truth, I have grown quite attached to this place you people refer to as Dereth.  So attached in fact, that I offer you salvation, as opposed to the condemnation offered from either the Quiddity or the archaic Empyreans.  I wish to see you, and the others that would be apprentices, embrace my cause.


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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When I first arrived here I was not unlike you.  I did what was needed to serve the Singularity.  My desires and the desires of my companions were similar, if not exactly the same.  As time went on, I realized that the goals of the Singularity were, if not unrealistic, slightly foolhardy at best.  Disenchanted, I began to search outside the unity.  My first true exposure to an Isparian was to a creature formerly called Martine.  I believe his story is told elsewhere, though he is a perfect example of the salvation I bring.


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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There is bliss in simplicity of purpose.  In my search for true completion, I realized the truth offered by the Singularity is imperfect.  There can be no advancement without creation and destruction.  The visceral nature of this flawed world cannot be denied, however there is something more to be found within.  I found that the one constant in this existence is the desire to grow.


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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The Singularity wishes it, yet it cannot achieve it, for it does not truly exist as an entity capable of growth.  Having a corporeal form, we can grow if we pursue that end.  I have grown from a mere servant patrolling the obsidian plain to something more.  It is achievable, with the correct patronage.  


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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I have been experimenting with changing the environment, and have succeeded in changing small things, such as the indigenous life.  The Monougas have shown a particular affinity to the portal energy, though some of the reedsharks are certainly promising.  Soon I will be ready to move to the next step, though that will take both time and resources that are not available within this region of the Desert.


author_Name: Aerbax
author_Account: prewritten
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The Singularity's patience is almost at an end.  Soon it will realize the flawed nature of its minions, and act to purge the imperfections.  I will continue on this route until I have succeeded in helping those who wish enlightenment.  The undead are beginning to understand.  I am certain you too will understand one day, apprentice.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
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Shreths:  Shreths have been on Dereth for a long time, and are only now beginning to exhibit some signs of finally adapting to the shifting seasons.  Recently, their hides have begun to thicken, resulting in the occasional shreth hide, which is useful in making armor for your hands and feet.  If a large enough hide could be found, it is possible you could even make pants out of it.  Bring whatever you find to your local leather crafter.  I'm certain he can do something with it.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
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Sclavus:  These upright canvas bags are great sources of new shoes, coats, and the occasional head gear, if you're into that.  I guess that it's molting season for these nasty creatures, and they are more ornery than normal, so be careful if you see one.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Ursuins:  At the beginning of the winter I released a book about how fast the Ursuin adapted to the environment.  Well, the fact is, that was an understatement.  Now they've gone and adapted to the summer too!  Their coats are all soft and wonderful now, and even better for skinning, if not as padded as the winter ones were.  Hope they don't keep going at this rate.  Soon they'll stand on their back legs and start asking for a Portal to Teth with the rest of us!


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If you are reading this, then I am dead.

May the betrayer rot.  Undying?  We'll see about that.

*****


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He approached me as I was returning home to Eastham from Rithwic.  Celcynd had been buying drinks for the whole house.  It was a late night.

From the forest shadows he called my name.  I, a master of silence and stealth, knew when I was outclassed.  I waited to see what he had to say.  


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He stepped from under the dark copse of trees.  Taller than me, covered in a blue robe with a hood over his face.  He approached me quickly and quietly, and I readied two of my blades underneath my jerkin.  I would not go down easily.

He stopped a few feet away.  An odor of sea and death wafted across my nose.  I had been to the sea once, after my first blade job some thirty years back, to avoid further complications.  With the heaving and the smell, I had almost wished I had been caught and hanged.  My grip on the daggers tightened.


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"Foolishness, piglet.  I have lived for thousands of years.  Your steel is soft next to me."  His voice was smooth, and yet it managed to further stiffen my spine with every syllable.  I belatedly realized I was terrified. 

"I have a proposition for you, Vinchlane.  How I came to hear about you is unimportant.  But for my purpose, it appears all paths lead to you.  Amongst the outlanders that soil this land, I understand that you have no small skills in the art of locks and keys.  True?" 


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I nodded, cursing myself for my inability to speak.  Many a strong and brave man had fell beneath my blade, yet here I was petrified by what I knew not.  I had to content myself with my weak assent.

"Ahh, good, Vinchlane.  I am sure we can come to an understanding, then."  He threw back his hood.  I soiled myself, another thing I had not experienced since that first killing 30 years ago.

*****


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He would not divulge his name, and I did not press.  I did not need to put a name on the unspeakable.  During our time over the next month he often would remind me of my mortality.  But better far to die quick and clean than to live on in a manner such as that.  Every step he took brought with that same stench of the wet blight.  I would rather die a thousand times than have to carry around that with me for my immortal existence.  

I would not have dealt with him at all, if it weren't for the money.


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An extremely large sum of money, more than I had ever earned for all my jobs on Ispar and Dereth combined.  An almost unbelievable sum of money.  It was the amount, actually, that led me to write this.  I have been in the business of men buying my unsavory talents for a long time.  When I am offered too much money for a job, it means one of two things, either the man plans on killing me after the job is done, or the man is a fool.  This walking horror was no fool.  And I did not think I could handle him trying to kill me the same way I handled it back on Ispar.  I had not lived this long by courting suicide.


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What he wanted was not trivial, even for my talents.  While I was primarily hired on Ispar for killing, I only took true pride in the manual arts of defeating the lock.  No man on either of the worlds I have lived on were my equal in lockpicking.  But never had I worked with what the Horror had created.  "Mnemosynes" he called them.  He was always arrogant and condescending, but never more so than when he talked about his precious Mnemosynes and how they would save the Dericost.  I had no knowledge of who the Dericost were before I ran into the Horror, but my time with him was a rapid education.


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The Dericost were amassing for war.  The Shadows were preparing to free Bael'Zharon, an occurence the Horror felt must be prevented at all costs.  But there were worries amongst the undead that this upcoming war might come at a grievous price for the Dericost.  Their society had endured for thousands of years, and much of their culture could be lost forever if they suffered too many losses.  As the Horror told me one day, "Were your fledgling lives to vanish, not even worms would note your passing.  But the Dericost were promised eternity.  And eternity we shall have."


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I should have felt insulted, but I was too busy puzzling over the Mnemosynes.  They truly were ingenious devices.  And, unlike most of my jobs involving a lockpick, this time my task wasn't to crack open the Mnemosynes, but rather to figure out how to make sure no one else did.  The Mnemosynes allowed the Dericost to record their thoughts and memories.


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While I was with him, the Horror occasionally had meetings with other horrors, talking about how they would distribute the Mnemosynes and the instructions on their use to the various Dericostians once the devices had been finished.  Apparently the plan was that even should the Dericost suffer devastation during the looming war, whatever remnant survived would have access to the Dericostian heritage and lore.  Access, that is, guarded by the Horror and his cronies.  They seemed to think that was very important.


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Personally, I wouldn't have minded if the whole race disappeared into the hell from which they came.  But as I said, it was a great deal of money.

*****


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The Horror had known the broad outlines of how he wanted to construct the Mnemosynes' locking process for quite some time.  He had created three different types of the Mnemosynes, as the Dericost varied widely in terms of their age and knowledge, and while some Dericost were worth the largest Mnemosynes that he had made, others "would contribute little more than your outlander race could," in his words.  Because the larger Mnemosynes would be the most valuable, he knew he needed a way of making them especially difficult to unlock. 


author_Account: prewritten
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The magical nature of the Mnemosynes and variations he desired in their locking mechanisms led him to look into the inert remnants of golems.  He had been theorizing about "attuning" the various Mnemosynes to different types of golem hearts.  These golem hearts would then function as keys.  Of course, what good keys that any "fledgling" newly arrived in this world could obtain?  This was the reason why he had contacted me.  My task was to transform the golem hearts through a process that only he and I would know, changing the raw material into specific keys which could then be used on the Mnemosynes.


author_Account: prewritten
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He had already chosen the three types of hearts he wanted me to sculpt.  Wood and metal and rock.  My first step was to create a tool that would allow me to work with all three.  Once I had finished crafting my instrument, then the real work began.

*****


author_Account: prewritten
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Regardless of the fact that you are reading this, and I am therefore dead, do not think I was a stupid man.  Had we met on Ispar, I very likely would have been the last thing that you didn't quite see.  I have infiltrated palaces and slept with princesses, I have stolen diamonds and rubies, I have wiped more blood off of my blade than is contained in your body.  I was a master, and you should respect that.  The Horror never respected me, and although I may not be around to enjoy it, I wonder if he enjoyed the fruits of his betrayal? 


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I had insisted that I be allowed to work in private.  He was convinced that I was sufficiently cowed by the implicit threat of his power not to try and disappear before I had completed the work.  And well he should have been convinced, as I was utterly certain that should I try to back out of the deal, he or one of his minions would destroy me beyond the power of any lifestone to bring me back.


author_Account: prewritten
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But now that work is done.  Three keys sit before me.  Wood, copper, obsidian.  Crafted to the not-quite best of my ability.  My carving tool sits here too, possibly the finest work I have ever done.  And the last piece, this book, written in front of the flickering firelight.  Perhaps the last light and heat I shall know.

I realize it is possible I am making too much of this.  It is possible that I will deliver the keys and the tool, along with the knowledge necessary to carve other keys, and he will hand me the agreed upon sum.  It is possible, but not likely.  No.


author_Account: prewritten
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From here, I go to drop off the carving tool, this book, and a letter with an old friend of mine.  I will give him instructions to release the tool and the book to the various destination towns throughout Dereth, should I not return on a daily basis to say hello.  I will tell him to send the letter as well, and I will warn him not to tarry during the delivery, lest he see whom he delivers to.


author_Account: prewritten
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And from there, I will go to meet the Horror.  I suspect he will let me live long enough to deliver the keys and the information on how to craft them.  And so during that time I will explain the new complication in our relationship, and how only my continued survival insures that he, and he alone, will have the ability to safeguard the combined knowledge of untold years of Dericostian culture.  Otherwise the length and breadth of us "piglets" will soon know the secrets of how to pillage the lost memories of a twice-dead people. 


author_Account: prewritten
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And I have purposefully made the keys in such a way that one only needs to be a talented lockpick artist to fashion the keys.  Talented, but not a master.

I have done all that I can to insure my survival.  

And should I be wrong, should all my hedges and guesses and instincts come to naught, as one day they must, then will my letter go out.  It goes to a man who is not quite a man anymore.  


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Hamud is not the only Isparian who has given over to the Shadows, he is merely the most famous.

And I am sure that this contact of mine will be quite happy to pass along to the Shadows the news that I have to give.  The Horror and his assistants have talked much of what their battle plans will be during this upcoming war over the Shadow Lord.  They have talked much and in detail.  Details which I am sure will be interesting to the Shadow leaders. 


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have no doubt of the puissance of the Horror and his fellow Undead, but I admit to a morbid curiosity at how he deals with an ambush of Shadows.

And who knows?  Maybe I will come back to read this note years hence and laugh at my foolish paranoia.  Perhaps.  It would be nice to think so.

Vinchlane Dranal


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Your task is simple.  You shall be our contact point with the renegade rock walkers.  We have much in common with their faction.  Despite the humans' persecution of their kind, the leaders of their race will attempt to make some overtures to their fellow flesh-puppets.  A group of renegades, who have control of deposits of the anti-magical mineral, are rebelling against their misguided leaders, just as we have done.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is the will of the New Directive that you establish a base of operations in the southern mountains, near the home of the renegades. We still find this emphasis on physicality to be novel and unsettling, but it is important to consider proximity.  Make contact with the renegades and negotiate with them.  Secure further deliveries of the anti-magic mineral, and offer them assistance in breaching the walls of their mountain fastness.

--Speaker of the New Directive


author_Name: Lugian Translator of Linvak Tukal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Anything can be built with the calm and righteous application of strength."

Obliteration awaits.  And all prefer the end over the corruption that prefaces the fall.  What shall shelter us from horror?  Three tools, my brethren, three choices to make.

You must be pure.  All sound foundations start from the heart that knows its cause is just.  Know you are right, know your strivings are free of taint and envy, and nothing can corrupt you.


author_Name: Lugian Translator of Linvak Tukal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
You must be focused.  A builder starts with a just cause, but he must not allow passions to adulterate the building.  Know where you are strong, know where you are weak.  Know and be at peace with the knowing.

You must be strong.  All your passion and preparations come to naught without toil and sweat.  We are our strength, our will shall be done.  Trust in your arm, for it creates with its power.


author_Name: Lugian Translator of Linvak Tukal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Strength.  Focus.  Purity.  These are the tools we have to ward off decay.  Let each be a thick root of our society.  Each tenet is powerful alone, but a society that entwines them shall never fall.  Never fall.


author_Name: Lugian Translator of Linvak Tukal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
[Translation Note:  These words were written by Lauriagnel, the First Matriarch, for a speech to the Assembly of Elders over two thousand years ago, shortly after the Prime Compact was formed.  Less than a year after her speech, she and her family were killed in the Liberty Rebellion, leading to the period known as the Ceaseless Night, which lasted for over a hundred years, until the Second Compact was formed.


author_Name: Lugian Translator of Linvak Tukal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Traditions of the Heart, the Mind, and the Arm, while having only a small following during the Ceaseless Night, have enjoyed a large resurgence after the Second Compact.  Even on this new world, where the Second Compact has become largely meaningless, the Traditions survive.]


author_Name: Monty the Munificent
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Welcome, traveler, to Monty's Den of Iniquity! If you feel like trying your luck with our games, simply purchase a gambling token from Boddry, our friendly cashier and bartender.  Bring tokens to our Gamesmasters and see what you win!  If you feel very lucky and wish to gamble your Pack Monster, you can trade one of those in to Monty himself for the chance at an especially rich prize!


author_Name: Arshid al-Qiyid
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Arshid al-Qiyid bids you feel welcome in his house of chance.  If you wish to risk your pyreals for a chance at fabulous and unique prizes, simply purchase a gambling token from Ashadi bint Samaq, the bartender and cashier.  Bring your tokens to one of the house Gamesmasters, and trust in the Mistress of Fate to bless you with fabulous prizes.  Those especially blessed may receive a Pack Monster.  Any Pack Monster may be used as tokens in a high-stakes game of chance with Arshid himself.


author_Name: Mi Gan-Zo
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Honored guest, I bid you welcome to Gan-Zo's Den of Iniquity.  To participate in our games of chance, purchase a gambling token from Haya Su Ka, the cashier and bartender.  Bring your tokens to the Gamesmasters and see what you win!  The especially fortunate may find themselves in possession of an adorable Pack Monster.  These prizes can also be risked in a game of chance with Mi Gan-Zo, for more rewarding prizes.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In memory of those who served the peoples of Ispar in their time of need. A torch held high to hold the night at bay.


            Strathelar's Order of Advocates
              Asheron's Order of Sentinels
      Portal Year One - Portal Year Eleven


               You shall not be forgotten.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
-----------------------------------------------------------
The Bestowers' Guild of Dereth has a charter to bestow new titles upon worthy applicants.  At present, the Guild bestows thirty-four titles.  

A full list follows, showing the seventeen skills in which titles are granted, followed by the basic and advanced titles rewarded.






-Continued-


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Bow: Sharpshooter / Deadeye
Crossbow: Sniper / Sureshot
Thrown Weapons: Ballisteer/Projectilist
Axe: Axe Warrior / Skullsplitter
Dagger: Dagger / Slicer
Mace: Mace Warrior / Skullcrusher
Spear: Spear Warrior / Impaler
Staff: Staff Warrior / Master of Staves
Sword: Swordfighter / Duelist
Unarmed Combat: Unarmed Brawler / Pugilist




-Continued-


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
-----------------------------------------------------------
Alchemy: Apothecary / Alchemist
Cooking: Chef / Iron Chef
Fletching: Fletcher / Master Fletcher
War Magic: War Adept / Warlock
Life Magic: Life Adept / Theurgist
Item Enchantment: Item Adept / Artifex
Creature Enchantment: Creature Adept / Evoker








-Continued-


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To apply for a title, simply collect a Skill Puzzle Base Piece from your local Guild outpost.  One should be available and in plain sight at each outpost.  Then purchase the appropriate Skill Puzzle Piece from the Guild Representative.  

If you are sufficiently advanced with the skill in question, you should have no problem combining the base piece with the appropriate skill piece.  Once the puzzle is complete, turn it in to the local Examiner to receive your new title.


-Continued-


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A person can only hold one title at a time, and a person can only be bestowed a title once.  So be careful before you decide which title you pursue!


author_Name: Cragstone Farms
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
     Cragstone Farms Purchasing Form
-----------------------------------------------------------
Item                                            Amount   Cost
-----------------------------------------------------------
Rabbit Kebabs                               100        15
Kegs of Rabbit Noodle Soup          5        10
Rabbit Pies                                       18        12

------------------------------------------
                           Sub Total: 1766
------------------------------------------
                  Shipping Total:  100
------------------------------------------
                        Grand Total: 1866


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Niffis:  These shelled creatures are newcomers to Dereth, arriving around the same time that Ursuins did.  They are characterized by their long tentacles, their big shells, and their tiny little wings that somehow keep their bloated carcasses afloat.  They are mainly vulnerable to slashing weaponry, and it seems the heat makes their shells workable!  If you are fortunate to come across one, bring it to a leather crafter and collect your reward.  I've also heard of pearls found within them as well...


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My colleague,
Our original plan, I know, was to wait for your first shipment of additional subjects before I sent back word on my experimentation with the humans.  However, the sensations of delight and excitement I experience compel me to share news with you.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Despite our early setbacks, I find the new line of research and experimentation to be endlessly intriguing.  What mutable minds the humans possess!  I must express sentiments of gratitude, my colleague, for your cooperation and assistance in our research.  It inspires regret within me that our colleague Adirred was exiled back to the primary Quiddity before he saw the fruits of our labor.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I anticipate, however, that as I continue my research with these most excellent human subjects, I shall soon have the information we need to break the last vestiges of our dependence on the outmoded Singularity.  Once we have taken all the lessons we can from the maddeningly chaotic humans, we will have the techniques and knowledge necessary to mount our own resistance against the Quiddity's inquisitors!


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Lacandrillar,
I await your word on the suitability of the human subjects.  They were easily acquired in Adirred's raid on the human desert town.  We managed to capture most of the humans, but their leader and a craftsman of their pitiable "bow" devices escaped.  En route to your facility, we discarded three humans who did not exhibit sufficient signs of individuality.  Additionally, a human sage who seemed to be resistant to most of our pacification techniques and Adirred's conditioning has escaped, and we were unable to locate the troublesome meat puppet.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Still, I express hope that the eight specimens we delivered to you prove to be useful.  I expect this note to arrive at your facility in the magic-blasted plains with the first group of human captives collected by our Black Claw agents in the mountain regions.  Again I experience regret for the sacrifices that we have had to make in our attempt to establish the incipient Singularity in this realm, which necessitates the use of our clumsy and inefficient message delivery service.  Experiencing anticipation, I await word on your progress with the great experiment.


author_Name: A.D.
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Greetings, traveler! If you've found this towel, no doubt something unfortunate has happened to me, because we all know that only the most dire circumstances could part a traveler from his trusty towel. It wouldn't be the first time, certainly, that something unacceptably rude has happened to me since I started traveling with F.P. 


author_Name: A.D.
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In any case, please return this towel to an Explorer's Society agent. They can be located in Shoushi, Yanshi, Nanto, Yaraq, al-Arqas, Samsur, Lytelthorpe, Rithwic, and Holtburg. I'm sure those fine chaps will come up with a nice and useful keepsake for you.
        In gratitude,
        A.D.


author_Name: F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Hello, friend! If you've found this towel then rough circumstances have caused me to part ways with my indispensable traveling aid. Most likely I dropped this charging to the rescue of my disaster-prone fellow traveler, A.D. My friend, you see, has a pronounced predilection to get himself in all sorts of trouble. The other day, for instance, we were taking a pleasant walk down the beach when he angered a mud puddle, which rose up and attacked him viciously. In my attempt to come to his defense, I was assaulted and engulfed by what looked like an angry, two-legged wave. That experience was most unpleasantly like being drunk.


author_Name: F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I may have to reconsider my assessment of this strange little island when I've compiled my travel guide. Please do me a favor, friend, and return this towel to one of the Explorer's Society agents in Holtburg, Rithwic, Lytelthorpe, Yaraq, Samsur, al-Arqas, Shoushi, Nanto, or Yanshi.
        Yours,
        F.P.


author_Name: F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
        Coming soon to an Explorer agent near you: An extensively-researched guidebook all about the wonders of this strange island, Dereth!  Hang on to this brochure, folks, and turn it in when our intrepid explorer in the field has published his impressions, recommendations, and words for the wise!
        In the meantime, just remember:  Don't panic.  As far as I can tell, Dereth is mostly harmless.


author_Name: F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
        This brochure good for one (1) copy of "A Portal-Jumper's Guide to Dereth," by field agent F.P., soon to be published by the Explorer's Society.  Publication date not yet known.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
By the way we measure time in this realm, I have been here for some time, since the first signs of taint appeared in our agents.  Only now has the disease of thought-chaos begun to strike me, as well, and for this we can only blame the leaders of the New Singularity movement.  Still, I believe I can hold to my mission and keep myself from becoming lost to the taint, if I maintain strict discipline with myself.  I record this missive to remind myself of my purpose, lest confusion strike me.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Should I give myself over to the discordant patterns of this realm, my missive will serve as a record of what has come before, so that my experience may be useful to the Quiddity.

For a long time, our efforts in this realm matched predicted results.  We moved unnoticed throughout the lands the humans deemed unfit for their use.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We conducted our experiments upon the lesser beasts in peace, and while our first efforts at alteration were far from perfect, they provided satisfactory minions for quite some time.  The Quiddity was forced to grant its agents in the realm an unprecedented degree of autonomy.  There are magical properties unique to this realm that we have not yet begun to understand; suffice it to say that the Quiddity cannot maintain perfect communication and connection with our agents.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Worrisome as the lack of connection seemed to be, no serious problems were encountered for quite some time after our arrival in the realm.  Returning agents came back with some unorthodox thought patterns and ideas, but the deviation was not outside of accepted parameters and they were re-assimilated with no problem, often with useful information and experiences to share.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The calculated risk of granting autonomy had paid off.  Unity had not yet been threatened.

The present affliction and loss of unity began shortly after the humans established their habitation in the desert.  The Quiddity decided, in its wisdom, to insert one of our agents in the humans' midst, a being who took the name "Claude" to conceal his true nature from humans.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Claude's mission to observe and interact with the flesh puppets proved a useful source of knowledge.  The more the Quiddity learned, the more it feared and loathed the humans and the chaos they represent.  The Quiddity began to explore the feasibility of a move to neutralize or eradicate the humans, lest their taint spread.  Plans were proposed and evaluated, but no action was taken.  In this, as in all things, the Quiddity would move cautiously.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Others already in this realm, however, reacted differently.  Levistras, a Director who had been in-realm for quite some time, long enough to give itself a name, began to form an agenda of its own.  It saw humans as both a threat and as its salvation.  With its newfound autonomy, Levistras entertained the notion of breaking free from the Quiddity and forming its own home, its own Singularity, in the realm.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A mongrelized notion, to be sure, and evidence of incomplete thought-processes, but a notion that held appeal for other Directors, those given the greatest autonomy and perhaps those with the most to gain if granted independence from the Quiddity.
 
Levistras helped several other Directors make a significant break from our unity.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This rebellion was made possible, ironically, with the help of the humans, at the time when they were rallying themselves to defeat the Dark Walker.  Apparently, Levistras came into contact with a being named Asheron.  Asheron was the last remnant of the former masters of this realm, who had powers over location and space similar to our own.  The history of these "Empyrean" is an interesting story itself, one that still bears investigation.  But this is not the story I relate now.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This Asheron has taken it upon himself to be the protector of the humans who found themselves in this realm.  He lent the humans aid when his enemy, the Dark Walker as we know him, began a campaign to conquer the realm and destroy their race.  Asheron made overtures to others who held power in the
realm, and made an agreement with Levistras.  Levistras would provide Asheron's lackeys with access to the facility in which we kept a small fragment of the Singularity, a node of our essence which makes it possible for us to manifest and use our energies in this realm.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The humans stole a piece of the fragment and Asheron used its energies to strike a critically weakening blow against the Dark Walker.

The theft of the Singularity gave Levistras another foolish idea, that it would somehow be possible to establish a separate Singularity in this realm, from which it and the other rebels could draw their power.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The human contact with the fragment also accelerated the decay in order among our ranks of agents, to the ultimate profit of Levistras rebel Directors -- Directors apparently already far into taint, easily swayed with wild suppositions and faulty logic.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
These Directors followed Levistras' path.  They named themselves and formed a plan, assigning themselves roles.  Some would research human thought processes, hoping to learn techniques to break themselves completely from dependence on the Quiddity.  Others would gather up power within the realm, to one day build up the prodigious reserves of energy it takes to establish a core Quiddity.  Such a notion was foolish, of course, because the Quiddity would never allow them to succeed in their endeavor.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
But still they persist, and they labor in their deluded belief that they will some day achieve independence and ultimate power.
Several of Levistras' circle have already fallen.  An experimenter named Adirred was destroyed by the humans when he orchestrated a brash and ill-advised takeover of the humans' desert town.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Another researcher named Lacandrillar was similarly brought low by humans.  Both of these were denied re-assimilation, their energies released to the void, given to oblivion.

Still, Levistras and its faction have won themselves some degree of autonomy.  They have found some way to secure their reserves of power so that the Quiddity is unable to simply cut them off.


author_Name: Lythusser
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
And the Directors they have assigned to the accumulation of power, the caretakers of their nascent New Singularity, have not yet been found.  Their grand campaign has not yet entered into its final movement.  And through it all, I can only watch and learn.  Some day, I am sure, I will meet my end, either at the crude hands of the humans or the merciless blades of the Inquisitors.  Because I have already given myself a name... And I like the sound of it.

Lythusser


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This message shard bears instructions from the Directive.  Deviation from our will shall result in swift extermination.  The Inquisitors are empowered to enforce the Directive.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We recognize that prolonged exposure to this realm, outside of the Singularity, away from the Quiddity, has severed your connection and your ability to follow the Directive.  We shall accept this and grant leniency, because we value our dispersed agents, unreliable as they may be, who have established themselves in the other realm.  We therefore issue this edict in the form that our vessels in the realm are most readily able to understand.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Here are the dictates of the Quiddity, the Directive that all agents in the other realm must follow.

Humans have been recognized as a threat to the unity of the Quiddity.  They are too chaotic and too strong-willed to be allowed to exist.  They are unfit for association or fraternization.  They are to be exterminated on sight.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Those who spend time in the company of humans, even for research purposes, will be destroyed.  The only exceptions to this rule are the agents known as "Claude" and "Leopold."

All experimentation upon humans is to cease immediately.  That way lies only taint and dangerous possibilities.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Those who are deemed irretrievably corrupted by human thought-chaos will be destroyed, never again to be assimilated into the Quiddity.

Continue to maintain contact with the purple desert-walkers, whom we have deemed chaotic, but not a threat to our unity.  There are those among you who have been empowered to negotiate with them on our behalf.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Continue to experiment up on the lesser races of the realm, including the squealing bipeds and the great red apes.  Continue to find new servitors to carry out our will.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
All work on the "New Singularity" will cease immediately.  This brand of deviation, above all, will not be tolerated.  There is only one Singularity and there will only ever be one Singularity, one seat of the Quiddity, one source of the Directive.

First among equals


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Honored colleague Aerbax,

I still find myself unable to come to a decision regarding your offer.  It occurs to me that your battle for my allegiance is half-won.  Even at this late stage, I still sit in contemplation of your offer, rather than obeying the dictates of the Directive and exterminating you and your faction with no delay.  


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My inaction against you, when I quite clearly could have acted against you, is probably enough evidence in the eyes of the distant Quiddity that I am lost and as worthy of destruction as you and yours.
Yes, colleague, I am cognizant of the flaws of the "old guard" who still blindly follow the tenets of the Directive.  


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Quiddity is content to hold itself within the structure provided by the Singularity and to have the Directive govern all thought and interaction, to provide meaning and purpose for all that we do.  Only after having stepped outside the comforting confines of the Singularity, having felt the myriad physical sensations and attendant thoughts and emotions that this world inspires, am I able to regard the Directive as in any way lacking.


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It also took a long effort of will, colleague, an effort I would not have believed myself capable of without our lengthy interactions, for me to be able to consider myself as a being separate from the Quiddity.  Never mind my inability to prosecute the will of the Directive; this alien, outside perspective is enough to have me declared Tainted and then eradicated, should I abandon this realm and move myself back to the Singularity.  


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
But I have drifted from the topic I intended to address.  Forgive the disorganization of my thought processes.  This newfound state, where my thought processes roam free and undisciplined, is another sign of my corruption, for which I am sure you are to blame.


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Let me state this point:  you are correct about the flaws in the Singularity.  Within its uncompromising confines, the Whole abuses the many in its own name.  The Quiddity reacts poorly to unanticipated events, to surprise, and the Directive is wholly lacking in flexibility or adaptability.  


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Instead of devising new methods with which to approach a new problem, the Quiddity simply wastes larger and larger portions of itself in an inelegant, brute-force attempt to overcome all barriers.  The unity which served us well in the past has been revealed to be a weakness, a source of inefficiency.


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I am not yet convinced that your crude rebellion, with your horrifyingly sloppy techniques and compromises in the name of individual will, is the correct path.  I have special antipathy to the idea that the humans can be at all useful to us -- they may provide amusing subjects for experimentation, but the ideas you and the Inculcator advance deserve only scorn.


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Despite your shortcomings, however, I feel that your resistance is a necessary step in the advancement of the Quiddity to something greater and stronger.  When the Inquisitors have done their work, I believe that the Quiddity will find lessons in your experience, and the Directive will adapt accordingly.


author_Name: Dirrich
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To that end, Aerbax, I salute you and your faction for your courage, an uncommon trait in beings so recently torn loose from the tyranny of the whole.  I think that, when the Inquisitors come for me, I will surrender myself to the oblivion they bring.  But I will exercise my will and my judgment, and keep my memory clear when they ask me about you...


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Part 1

All my questing, all my writing, all the bloodshed and violence and manipulation and destruction, all to this one central question, 'What do I have to do to get some respect in this forsaken existence?'

With all that I have experienced, with all the pain I have felt, and the pain that I have inflicted, surely something in there marks me as one to be reckoned with?  Yes?  Yes?  Yes, I would think so.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In fact, one would think that the mere mention of my name would send shivers amongst those appreciative of my talents.  Have I not worked hard for this to be so?  What more has to be done?  Must I rid this world of every single living thing in order for someone important to realize that I SHOULD HAVE RESPECT?  


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
You appreciate the dilemma.  What point the performance without an audience?  But I need a better audience.  One more finely tuned to...subtleties.  To complications and ambiguities.  
Instead I strut on the stage before hordes of mice, old and feeble.  And blind.  Very, very blind.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Hello, little blind mouse.  And what do you call yourself?  Are you one of those big, strong Lugians?  Maybe one of those crafty Tumeroks?  A slimy Mosswart?  Or one of those flimsy, whiny Isparians?  Or do you think you are a member of a higher order than these lesser races?  Shadowkin?  Virindi?  You are all little blind mice to me. 


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Me.  Me, me, me.  Ahh, the trappings of fame bring with it such an incessant need for details.  What is my name?  Puppet, Father, Martine, Lord, Candeth, Husband, Master.  How old am I?  I am 39 years old.  I have existed for over 4 million years.  Where do I come from?  From a tiny jewel of a planet, nestled deep in the confines of blackness, protected by the merest layer of air.  From a plane of Order, pure and crystalline.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
You will never know what I have lost.  You can never know.  I have lost the best of both worlds.  I remember my wife.  I remember my child.  I loved them.  They are lost to me.  I could not stand the sight of them now.  I remember my fellow Virindi singing the song of the firmament, my voice one amongst many...no, there was not even the concept of "my" voice.  There was one voice, one shining eternal moment of...I have lost that, too.  


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I am the product of two cultures, two races, that should never have been fused.  Human existence to the Virindi is like explaining to a singular point the existence of three dimensions.  It has been a painful process for my former colleagues to adapt to this life.  And those that I have adapted to my own needs have experienced even more pain.  The Isparian part of me might have once felt sympathy.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
So here you stand, or sit; full of false bravado or having the good sense to tremble; wanting nothing more than to flee this place, or hoping to beg of me a favor in support of some ill-conceived notion that will result, at best, in another day's worth of cheese for your little mousy mind: reading these words.  I regret that this is the only interaction we will share this day.  I am not ready to meet my audience off of the stage yet.  And you are certainly not ready to meet me.

**********


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Part 2

Respect.  That is the reason behind this latest writing.  I will have it.  Mark that down.  I no longer yearn for love or sustenance, comfort or warmth.  There is no security, and the purity of order has been exposed as the eternal lie.  All are differing arrangements of chaos.  Respect is the one goal I have left.  It will not be denied me.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I thought that going back to right the old wrongs would bring me the satisfaction I craved.  First Arrgkh, then Alayne.  I searched far and wide for the Overseer that made me what I am.  To thank him, of course.  Nothing.  Did he perish as a result of his machinations?  Or later, during the Directive War?  He did not seem to be one who would have let my own plans go unchallenged, especially coming from a former minion of his.  I still amuse myself by imagining our next meeting, even if it will only ever happen in my dreams.


author_Account: prewritten
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Eternal screaming.  The Virindi in me will not stop today.  As I mentioned above, the Isparian and Virindi mindsets do not meld well.  He does not quite accept he is me.  Most days I am strong enough to quiet him...to incorporate him.  But after the events of yesterday, I am tired.  Back during the days of Jean and the Master, when Martine was destroyed, I had an image that kept on coming back to me, over and over and over. 


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 I thought of God, a God who looked over his creation, and knew that he could not escape it.  That he, and the whole of existence, would continue to be, for ever and ever.  And he was filled with such horror at the unceasing pace of his creation, and his secure knowledge that there would never be anyone with more authority or power than him to give him peace or absolution, that his only recourse was to scream and scream and scream.  Eternal screaming.


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Respect...when last I left you, reader, I was full of manipulations and plots, dreams and ambitions.  I envisioned...well, perhaps those dreams are not quite dead, yet.  Even with this meddlesome Directive, there are still ways for me to achieve my earlier goals.  Whether I still wish to or not...but do not fret, little mouse.  Enjoy that nibble of cheese.  But it was that first meeting with the Directive that showed me that vexations do not cease when one becomes a cat.

**********


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Part 3

I went through a period in the management of my various pets, encouraging them to speak their mind.  To let me know what they thought and felt.  They had been a bit lacking in performance of their duties, and they seemed resigned to, not afraid of, the death and torture they were threatened with.  Hence, an experiment with a new policy.  One of the Isparians was reading through some of my earlier memoirs and apparently felt the need to comment.


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"Exalted Master High Lord," he began (while I was encouraging more openness amongst the help, proper respect was still a must), "while I truly love all that you write, you display such obvious genius, I do have one small critique."

Of course, I was most interested in what he had to say.  I moved in close to hear him better.  Apparently, this made him nervous.  I smiled pleasantly, "Please continue, valued servant."


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"Well, your description of your various internal mental states is admirable.  But I found myself wanting more visual description.  Give your readers a better sense of, how do the Viamontans put it, 'Mise en scene.'  I want to be able to see what is going on for myself, I need to be able to place myself in the story.  And you might want to emphasize plot more in these tales.  Where is the true conflict?  The resolutions are rather...facile, no?"  He finished with a flourish, truly proud of his analysis.

I, too, was impressed.  I tried to distill his words to their essence.  


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"So, you desire to be more immersed in my stories?  My stories are chiefly concerned with pain.  Let me help you in this immersion process."  After his screams subsided somewhat, I proceeded to his next point, "And I truly apologize for the brevity and ease with which I handle conflict resolution.  I promise you that I will practice prolonging and extending the amount of pain and conflict in my literary interactions.  But what value a literary text, except how it mirrors in some awful way the real world?  Even though you will beg for death and release, just remember that you are serving a higher literary goal."


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My social experiment ended after that day.  I do admit I surpassed prior motivational attempts with the display I put on with my Isparian assistant.  My staff was very happy apparently to see the "nice Master" replaced with a more efficient and productive leader.

Fine, I admit I completely made up the previous anecdote.  It never happened.  Pure fantasy.  I just get tired of being told that I have no sense of humor.

**********


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Part 4

I would not have even been aware of the Directive agents coming to Auberean were it not for the Virindi in me changing his screams to frantic gibbering.  "nononono howcantheybehere willtheykillme willtheysaveme pleasesavemekillmefreemenonononono"


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It would be nice to say that I could hold a rational conversation with my own internal Virindi.  That I could convince him that it was in our best interests, as long as we shared a mind, to work together to maximize the possibilities of our long-term biological happiness.  Unfortunately, I once more had to rip the information I desired out of our frazzled mind.  This was still early in the process of our symbiotic relationship, before I learned how to incorporate it entire.  Unpleasant and messy, but better than the screaming.


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I approached the agents of the Directive carefully.  While I was sure that I could handle any individual Directive Virindi with little trouble, I did not know how powerful a group of them could be.  Plus, I had never seen a "pure" Virindi before; all the Virindi I had killed or dominated to that point had been tainted by this insane and potent world.  I "remembered", through my Virindi-half, what it was like to be a Virindi in a place where such conceptions did not matter.  I was a bit awed of the remembrances of that power, to be honest.  And the continual screaming and ranting of my Virindi mind-mate did not help the situation.  So...I exhibited caution.


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I had no trouble tracking the location of their enclave on Dereth.  They took no trouble to hide it, for those with the proper vision to see.  And why should they?  They had no fear of these tainted rebels, this affront to the Directive and the Singularity.  Their mission on Auberean was simple.  Reacclimatize or destroy the rebels.  There was never any consideration that the rebels were not, for all their follies, a simple matter of reassimilation, or that the same taint that had permanently corrupted the rebels may have some negative effect upon the arriving Directive agents.  Dereth is, as they say, a place of wonders.  And many of those wonders are educational.


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There were three of them.  Their purple cloaks shifted in the high mountain winds, as their smile-etched faces bobbed up and down at my arrival.  They looked no different than their tainted kin, and yet they seemed odd.  If the rebel Virindi had made strides, however laughable, towards imitating the Isparians, these creatures had still not begun the race.  The explorer in me wonders if words will ever be able to transcend the alien; if the unimaginable chasms in perspective between two different cultures will ever be bridged by some universal medium of expression.  Or is each entity surrounded by the darkness of interpretation?


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I stopped several feet short and prepared my opening gambit, when one of them moved slightly back and spoke to his fellows.

"Query: Other prisonates one of us. Analysis: Mechanism involved speculative.  Process: dissection, analysis, summary.  Execute."

I had little time to wince at the contortions of their thought (they really did have a hard time understanding the world of the material), before the two front Virindi moved towards me, their scythes rising up for some apparent slicing and dicing.   Enough.


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There may have been a time when my ability to control the physical frame of a creature was limited to a simpler type of mind, such as a Tusker or Mosswart.  That time had long passed.  But I did not wish to kill these Virindi agents.  I wished to discuss matters of state.

I could feel their confusion as I held them there against their will.  They would have had no idea that there could be anyone on this planet with that capability.  I relished them getting used to it.  I spoke quickly and quietly, explaining what services I could provide for their "diplomatic" mission, and the price I would require.  


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The lead Virindi communicated my offer to the Director in charge of their mission.  I was surprised that I could not overhear the sending.  Once finished, the three of them floated in stillness.  The answer came a few seconds later.  Again, though I tried, I could not overhear their telepathy.  I was slightly worried.


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The same Virindi spoke loud and clear in my mind.  "Abomination.  Action-point: Surrender imminently.  Result: Cessation, characterized by lack of stimulation of individual nerve endings and central receptive unit for a period of many local lifetimes.  Divergent Action-point: Resistance.  Result: Longer-term cessation."  The doors to their mountain fortress opened, and Virindi began hovering out by the hundreds.


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The Virindi in me decided now was a good time to double his efforts to free itself from our body.  The approaching Virindi began their assault on my mind and body with psychic blasts and magical energy.  The situation had begun to get out of control.  I sent my Virindi self howling back to the deepest recesses of our mind under a torrent of pain and anger.  I dropped the control over the three greeters in order to protect myself from the assault from above.


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Besides, I didn't need to hold dead bodies.  I lashed out at one along all of his soul points, crushing them into a metaphorical bloody pulp.  He exploded over his two fellow Virindi.  As my mind was doing this, my body took the dagger I kept at my side and separated  the head off of another's body.  The mask fell away, and had I time to look I would have enjoyed seeing the little tentacles flapping away on their journey towards oblivion.  I stun the third one, I do need one hostage/potential experiment, and throw the flopping collection of mask and robes over my shoulder.


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As I turn to prudently withdraw, one of their spells breaks through my defenses and slams in and through my other shoulder.  The surprise of the pain cracks open my fields completely, and a horde of spells puncture and ravage my body.

So much pain. I mumble my Shurov Thiloi in a bloody froth, and struggle to maintain consciousness as I recall through my home portal.  As I see who is waiting for me as I reintegrate at my place of seclusion, I lose the struggle.

**********


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Part 5

I realize in my above description that over the last two paragraphs, I much too casually switch from past to present tense.  Did it confuse you, dear reader?  Did it prevent your immersion into the seamless tapestry of narrative that I am attempting to weave?  Or did you not notice it until now, with me bringing it up?  


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Immersion is a dangerous process, mousey-mouse.  Trust me.  No?  Shall you risk all that you once loved, all that you once held dear, in order to lose yourself in a land of make-believe and whimsy?  For that is what I did, once long ago, far far away on the world of Ispar.  If you have a desire whose call never lessens, do you answer it?  Will it transform you or destroy you?  Answer this before you begin the journey, youngling.


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I am in the pursuit of power now.  Power which will afford me respect.  And once I have respect?  Once the world knows my name and trembles at its mention?  Will I be satisfied?  Will I want more?  Will I see what I have wrought and know it for what it is?  A desolate monument in the desert waiting to be found by a people and time unknowable to me.

The problem with the Virindi is that they have never known ashes.  Their journey neither begins nor ends.  Except here.  Here they discover endings.  The lucky ones, anyway.


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Do you appreciate the power of ashes?  Do you understand the risks you embrace when you choose the path of unbridled desire?  Shall you burn bright, flashing and dashing until you lay, scattered and minute, a layer of death and grey?  Do you appreciate the power of ashes?  No matter to what you may lay claim, no matter whom you have left trampled in your wake, ashes await.  Ashes await, a wreath of dust denoting the only destiny guaranteed you this life: an end.


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Do I sound sane?  Do I sound wise?  I'll stop soon enough.  This is not the first time in my short (oh so long) existence that I have warbled back and forth between the realms of clarity and delirium.  Back on that cold floor embedded deep in the Vesayen Isles, I first took that trip of madness, my eyes moons inchoate.  I know that I have been the very essence of rationality in some of my previous writings, but I'll let you in on a little secret: I have never quite recovered from that initial ordeal.

**********


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Part 6

As I lay in my sanctum dying, I could think of few worse situations than to be gazing up at the face of Asheron Realaidain.  Master mage.  Last of his race.  A white knight, blessed under a halo of golden light.  The reason why my former life was destroyed.

I lift my head to speak, but all that comes out is a flow of red trickling down my chin.  I no longer have a heart.  Why do I still need blood?


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Hush he says to me.  Rest.  Accept peace, Candeth Martine.  I will heal you.

Never, I snarl. Although nothing actually comes out of my mouth except more red.  Life is easier when reduced to colors.  Half of me is trembling with the need to destroy this arrogant invader, the other half preoccupied with the mystery and purity of color, until both halves resolve into a whole of increasing velvety blackness.  Oblivion as the ultimate mediator. 

**********


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Part 7

Twice now I have lost consciousness in the presence of the fool, Asheron.  Thrice would be too much to bear.  This time I will stay awake or die.

Of course, this time, my body has apparently healed enough to make that a realistic boast.


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Torchlights flicker in each corner of the room.  Much too bright for my tastes.  I no longer need such light to see.  At least not to see those things that truly matter.  The Empyrean are obviously not so blessed.  My servants are nowhere to be seen.  Or felt.  Has Asheron destroyed them?  I will not be such easy meat.  I gather my energies.  Softly.  Slowly.  Give me time, old man.  Just a little more time.

"Candeth..." 


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"That is not my name, old man.  Nevermore.  Let it fall from your lips again, and sooner or later, you will regret it."

"What should I call you then?"

"Martine will do.  Or Empyrean-killer, if that please you better.  Yes, in fact, I think Empyrean-killer would be an appropriate name."


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Stupid of me to continue provoking him when all I need is more time, more time to heal, more time to gather strength.  And yet there is a cord of rage holding up my back, stiffening any flexibility of demeanor I would require to deceive the deceiver.  As I watch him for any sign of weakness, any opportunity to strike, all I can focus on is his utter stillness; is he content?  Dare he be?  I will destroy him.


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I will not prolong the demise, not for mercy or for torture.  There will be no second chances, no intervention from an act of god (if such things exist, surely that God would have saved me back when it was still possible to be saved?  Surely it would have never left me leave my home, my wife and daughter?  Surely.  Surely.  Surely). 

I only notice that my body is writhing in pain when Asheron moves towards me, a soft glow emanating from his palm as he brings it closer to my forehead.  He speaks, each word a poisoned needle in my side.  


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"Hate me if you will, Martine, but you must find a way to control yourself or you will die here tonight.  I would leave this place, my errand unfinished, to leave you in peace; but if you receive no further care, you will perish the same.  If you have any hope of wreaking your vengenance on me, on the world, then survive this night.  For you can do nothing resting in the land of the dead."     

Clever trickster; clever, clever man.  I will have my revenge.  I will have it.  I will survive this day, this time.  Whatever it takes.  I will have it.


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The hated one continues, "When first we met, Martine, you were a coin fresh minted.  Shiny but still soft.  I was able to dictate how that meeting ended, although I still regret that I could not help you.  Even though you did not desire my help at all, I still could have cushioned those raw wounds of the soul.  But I had a more urgent matter to attend to at the time.  I am sorry for that."


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He taunts me with the memory of his mockery; my humiliation.  During my search for Arrgkh, I had a rash impulse that I could not control: I would find this Asheron, find him in his place of hiding and destroy him.  It was not just that his call had led me here to this doom and dim rebirth; I desired to place myself against him, to measure how far I had come and become.  I considered him a fair challenge.  I had been wrong, grievously wrong, and the reminder still burns.  


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I will talk no more about it except to say this:  Asheron is not what he appears to be.  The Aluvian folk-tales had a name for his type.  Weyrava.  Trickster and thief, deceiver and liar.  The center of a hundred stories and teller of a thousand more.  He is the shadow beneath the sun and the grave beneath the moon.  Wife-stealer.  Child-killer.  Betrayals upon betrayals are the gift he leaves upon your doorstep.  This is Asheron of the Empyrean.  Let him dress up in his white.  Let him preach his mealy piety and false humility.


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 When the tale of Auberean has wound its way down, and the corpses of mice have long since turned to ash, the very world will curse his name with each feeble breath it takes.  Asheron, the dying winds will mutter, Asheron.  For if this world dies he will be the cause.

I will have revenge.

"What do you want, Empyrean?  Are you an agent of the Directive?  Have you plotted together to catch me here at my worst?  Spin your pretty tale for me, Weyrava."


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"Whereava?  I am unfamiliar with the term.  And I am no friend of the Directive's latest sortie to my world, Martine.  I promise you that.  As for why I came...it appears that must wait.  I need information, Martine.  Information which only you can give, I think.  But little use for us to talk about it now, like this.  Rest and get well, Martine.  Heal.  You may think your path is set, the walls surrounding your destiny stone; but shall you be imprisoned forever?  There are other ways, Martine.  Other ways and other fates."


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He is goading me, trying to get me to strike so he can obliterate me, and still frame it in terms of self-defense.  He must appear blameless in this death, he must protect himself.  I will not give in.  I will not surrender to my rage.


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"Ask yourself this, Martine.  Why did they merge you with one of them?  What hope could they possibly have for such a joining?  How is it that you have advanced so far and so fast, so much more than what any Virindi or Isparian could ever hope to be?  Who gains from your independence right now?  Who loses?  Hate me if you will, but long have I travelled down my path, Candeth Martine, and these are the questions you must ask yourself."


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I cannot think any more, I do not care anymore.  Let him kill me.  I gather up all the energy I have left.  If defiance be not enough, then I will accept the consequences.  It is only as the energy fills me, all my senses expanding to fill the room, that I find that Asheron has left.  The torches have gone dark and cold, and only the four corners of wispy smoke hint that they had ever been.


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As I let the energy seep back into my core, the word fills my mind.  Coward.  Coward.  Coward.  Coward.  As I sink into the uncertain realm of collapse, I don't remember whom I am referring to.

When I wake up three days later, I almost convince myself it was not a dream.

***********


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Part 8

That was over three months ago.  Asheron has not contacted me since.  I was so proud of myself that time so long ago when I found his hiding place and entered boldly and arrogantly.  I have not been able to duplicate my success.  Whether he is alive or dead, I cannot sense Asheron Realaidain on this world.


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Events have moved quickly.  The Directive made its plans without my help, without my guidance.  Even after I woke up, it was two weeks before I felt safe enough to journey outside again.  My "help" had not been killed by Asheron after all, merely exiled from the room for a day.  The Minions and Tuskers I kept; they are too dumb to know any better.  The few Isparians I slaughtered for their perfidy.  By the time I had caught up to the games and tricks of the outside world, it was too late for anything but to watch the inevitable climax of events.


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Even without Asheron, my rage simmers and bubbles, a constant flame stoking its turmoil.  I have been played, by parties either known or unknown, and either option is highly unpalatable.  If I were to meet Asheron now, at my full strength, he would feel my wrath.  He would bow before me.  This is why he hides.  I have surpassed the strength of my Overseer a long time ago.  Let it hide from me.  There will be a reckoning.  And if my adversary is still hidden in the shadows, a Weyrava who thinks himself cunning and quick?  I will deal with him the same.  I know the tales.  I know the stories and how they end.  Let him come.


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I am no longer a mouse.  My claws are sharp and terrible.  And I can play with my food for a very long time.

The Virindi in me awakes and cries for a little while before it falls back into slumber.  It accepts the situation now.  Mostly.  It wakes fewer and fewer times each day.  It knows what is coming and no longer fights.  A mouse to the end.


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I will not relate here the events of the last few days.  Why I know that someone has attempted to relegate me to a bit player on the stage.  It is not time yet.  The game is still being played.

There are moves I have yet to make.  The Singularity Weapons have served their purpose.  Now they will serve me in another way.  Come to my island, mice.  Do not be afraid.  Look at the piece of tasty cheese I have laid out in front of you.  


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Britana is another interesting opportunity.  So fierce and proud, and yet undone so easily.  My former people are a fragile one.  Losing one's spirit and independence does not require torture by an alien race.  It merely requires love.  I have kept her waiting for the last week.  Perhaps I should see her tonight.  She serves the plan nicely.


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Once she had become besotten with me (I did not coerce her or manipulate her; although I could have.  No, her falling in love with me was not necessary for the plan; it has only made the proceedings more amusing), I showed her some of my earlier writings.  I was curious to see her reaction.


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She blathered on for a long time.  Her inarticulate praises are not worth repeating here.  But one question stopped me short.  Why did I do it?  While I ignored the question then, after I left her I thought long about it.

For my former writings culminating in the Singularity Weapons, the answer was clear.  I had a plan, and part of that plan required the majority of people to know that there was such a plan.  It would have worked very nicely, too, if it hadn't been for the...not yet.  He may still be watching.


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But this piece?  Why this piece?  Why am I writing now?  I will have my respect, whether you, the reader, wish it or no.  You will still be a mousey-mouse, reader, whether you know it or not.  You will still savor your loves and desires, sob over your losses and grief, and feel the chill in your heart as you look at shadow or grave.  And one day your cares will end, your body will rot, and your bones will grow ash over the long years of nothingness.  All this will happen, whether you read this or not, whether you believe me or not.  It is your destiny, child, and the walls surrounding your path are made of the densest stone.


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I suppose I write this because I enjoy giving you hope, much I have given to Britana over these past few weeks.  You read this and feel those sparks, sparks of uniqueness and meaning, those two shields which humans have used to defend against the darkness since the beginning.  You know that there must be some purpose to you having read this, some answer to glean out of the pattern and the weave.  You read this and hope; you read it and wonder; you read it and think that the ending, your ending, might still change.  And that is what makes this so fun.


author_Name: Tekapuapuh
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Hey! Thanks for going on this adventure-journey-quest-thing for me! I really appreciate it! Hey!

You need to go to my special secret portal, to the east of my mansion! You'll need the special password! It's "PutiPuti" just like my favorite grubby!

I came up with the password all by myself!

When you get there, get my special onga! It's the only thing that makes Putiputipuh happy! And I want Putiputipuh happy! I need my Putiputipuh to be happy! Happy! HAPPY!


author_Name: Tekapuapuh
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I dropped a bunch of stuff while I was down there, but I'm sure you can find the Onga. It's no problem!

Did I ever tell you how I found Putiputipuh? Maybe, if you come back with the Onga, and you're really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really nice, I'll tell you! When you get back! Maybe I'll let you pet Putiputipuh even. Doesn't that make you want to come back?!

I knew it would!


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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Hearken, and your ears shall be opened to the ways of making the Stave of Palenqual.

The totem of Palenqual may only ever be wielded by one keh, he who earned it. Because of this limit, totems are bonded to their master's keh, and will never be lost should you find yourself sprawled before the light of a soulcatcher stone. 


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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What you have now is the heart piece alone. As you have chosen to make for yourself the magical Stave, the heart has been attuned to the flows and whorls of the invisible river.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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Yet a heart can only beat unto itself if it has no voice, no legs, and no hands to grasp. To give the Stave its ability to effect the world about, you must add other totems to it. As the isle of Palenqual is just a place without the creatures and forces that scurry and storm across it, so the Totem of Palenqual is mute without other totems that represent the inhabitants of this isle.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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There are five totems that the elder shamen of the Aun xuta have prepared for use. You must seek these boons from them in the fields of this Marescent Plateau, for they have piled their kindling far from here. They bear a heavy weight for our xuta. Be your eyes and mind open, though, for only three of these five boon-totems may be added to the totem of Palenqual.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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The Totem of our akiekie, Timaru, will add Timaru's Shelter to the Stave. This will increase the bearer's Magic Resistance by ten, and can be layered with additional protections.

The Totem of the Carenzi, the feral underground predators of Palenqual, will add Focus VI to the Stave.

The Totem of the Siraluun, the graceful flightless birds, will Minor Focus to the Stave. This will increase the bearer's Focus by five, and can be layered with additional enchantments.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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The Totem of the Storms that crash over the great snow-capped mountains of this plateau will add the spell of Avalanche to the Stave. This spell will cause great hailstones to fall from the sky, but is inaccurate and can only be used outside. Be aware of the limitations of this spell before you choose it.

The Totem of Tonk, the newest comer to this isle, evinces knowledge of self, and mastery of one's chosen path. In the case of the Stave, it grants War Magic Mastery VI.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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Hearken, and your ears shall be opened to the ways of making the Hoeroa of Palenqual.

The totem of Palenqual may only ever be wielded by one keh, he who earned it. Because of this limit, totems are bonded to their master's keh, and will never be lost should you find yourself sprawled before the light of a soulcatcher stone. They may, however, be freely given to another. 


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
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What you have now is the heart piece alone. As you have chosen to make for yourself the stout Hoeroa, the heart has been steeled to withstand the harshest knock against the enemy.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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Yet a heart can only beat unto itself if it has no voice, no legs, and no hands to grasp. To give the Hoeroa its ability to effect the world about, you must add other totems to it. As the isle of Palenqual is just a place without the creatures and forces that scurry and storm across it, so the Totem of Palenqual is mute without other totems that represent the inhabitants of this isle.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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The Totem of our akiekie, Timaru, will add Timaru's Shelter to the Hoeroa. This will increase the bearer's natural Armor by thirty, and can be layered with additional protections.

The Totem of the Carenzi, the feral underground predators of Palenqual, will add Strength VI to the Hoeroa.

The Totem of the Siraluun, the graceful flightless birds, will add Lesser Strength of Earth to the Hoeroa. This will increase the bearer's Strength by four, and can be layered with additional enchantments.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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The Totem of the Storms that crash over this great snow-capped mountains of this plateau will lower the base damage of the Hoeroa, but a well-placed blow will in turn do four times the normal damage.

The Totem of Tonk, the newest comer to this isle, evinces knowledge of self, and mastery of one's chosen path. In the case of the Hoeroa, it grants Staff Mastery VI.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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Hearken, and your ears shall be opened to the ways of making the Kalindan of Palenqual.

The totem of Palenqual may only ever be wielded by one keh, he who earned it. Because of this limit, totems are bonded to their master's keh, and will never be lost should you find yourself sprawled before the light of a soulcatcher stone. They may, however, be freely given to another. 


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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What you have now is the heart piece alone. As you have chosen to make for yourself the far-killing Kalindan, the heart has been bored to fire the quarrels commonly used by the crossbowmen of your Isparian xuta.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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Yet a heart can only beat unto itself if it has no voice, no legs, and no hands to grasp. To give the Kalindan its ability to effect the world about, you must add other totems to it. As the isle of Palenqual is just a place without the creatures and forces that scurry and storm across it, so the Totem of Palenqual is mute without other totems that represent the inhabitants of this isle.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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The Totem of our akiekie, Timaru, will add Timaru's Shelter to the Kalindan. This will increase the bearer's Quickness by ten, and can be layered with additional enchantments.

The Totem of the Carenzi, the feral underground predators of Palenqual, will add Coordination VI to the Kalindan.

The Totem of the Siraluun, the graceful flightless birds, will add Lesser Hunter's Acumen to the Kalindan. This will increase the bearer's Coordination by four, and can be layered with additional enchantments.


author_Name: Aun Hareltah
author_Account: prewritten
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The Totem of the Storms that crash over this great snow-capped mountains of this plateau will grant the Kalindan the Eye of the Hunter spell, which adds 25% to the damage of all quarrels fired from it.

The Totem of Tonk, the newest comer to this isle, evinces knowledge of self, and mastery of one's chosen path. In the case of the Kalindan, it grants Crossbow Mastery VI.


author_Name: Aun Bernawa
author_Account: prewritten
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Toneawa:

Pray do not contact my sister Mariona again. She will soon learn that this mesalliance of hers will not be tolerated. Go--leave our island. The Aun were well rid of you the day you betrayed our sacred mission.

Be happy that "the trusted bearer of this missive" is still alive to carry this back to you.

Bernawa


author_Name: Hea Toneawa
author_Account: prewritten
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Dearest Mariona,

Though I love you more than the stars and the moon, I dare not meet you today as we had planned. I fear the Hea have become aware of our affections. The emnity between our xutas is too bitter. I know our love will be despised, and I fear for your safety. Lovely Mariona, steal away from Timaru, run away with me to the mainland. We could make a fresh start there, far from the baleful glances of our kindred. I will try my best to meet you on the morrow. Know that the trusted bearer of this missive also carries all my love to you.

Your Toneawa


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   As part of my continuing service to the organization for whom I do my work, I am writing down my observations about this charming little island I seem to have found myself on.  Mind you, this is not a full, that is to say, complete, account of the entire planet, as I find myself unable to leave the island that the locals call "Dereth."


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   First, I must mention the mind-boggling size of this island.  It's very easy to get lost when you get out of sight of the nearest town.  I am often happy to simply follow my instincts and go willy-nilly from place to place without a clear destination in mind, but many people are not as open to exploration as I am, and it can be quite dangerous to get lost.  So if you're new, I would suggest you buy a piece of parchment from a friendly vendor and record the coordinates of important locations.  If you keep track of which direction you're going in, it's easy to keep yourself from getting hopelessly lost, as my friend A.D. has a tendency to do.


author_Account: prewritten
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   Now, how does one sustain oneself here?  When it became evident to me that I was not going to get off the surface of this planet any time soon, I began to wonder how I'd get along, with no useful skills to speak of other than a certain flair for description.  Luckily, the creatures of this island seem to be quite well-off in material possessions.  Do not consider yourself above mugging a Mosswart and taking the items it was carrying.  There are many vendors around who will happily buy whatever items you may find.  Yes, violence for fun and profit!


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   At this point, some of you may be thinking, "Well yes, now our intrepid correspondent has told us how to get places safely and what to do when we're there... But, fearless friend, where do we go?"  Let me tell you.  When I was newly arrived here, I tried not to stray very far from the town where I started out, a charming little burg whose name I promptly forgot.  There were some interesting encounters to be found around there.  Excitement abounded as I fled the wrath of angered, squeaking Drudges.


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   Once I'd built up my strength and gotten the lay of the land, I decided to hit the beaches.  The beaches are full of all sorts of interesting fauna who would like to kill you.  Kill them before they kill you, take their possessions, and move on.  If you should find yourself weakened after being knocked back to the pretty blue lifestone several times too many, perhaps you should go back to beating on much weaker creatures until you have recovered your strength.


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   But after many adventures on the beaches, some of which I may write about, I grew strong and wily, and even had enough money to get myself decent traveling gear.  The creatures of the beaches ceased to challenge me, unless they caught me by surprise and without my leggings (don't ask, long story).  So I decided to move inland, to the beautiful and majestic mountains.  In the mountains, life has become exciting once again.  Many more trips to the fabulous blue lifestone, many jarring changes of consciousness and scenery that remind me fondly of some of the exotic cocktails I used to sample in far-off taverns...


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   Anyway.  That's neither here nor there.  By all means, don't take my word for it.  I have met many people in this land.  Some were helpful, some were rude, some were just plain incomprehensible, even to a well-traveled person such as myself.  But there are a few movers and shakers around here, whose names I have heard.  If you are socially inclined, there are any number of experienced adventurers here waiting to recruit you into their service, who can share their wisdom and equipment with you.


author_Name: by F.P.
author_Account: prewritten
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   It's also always good advice to seek out new towns.  Local bartenders and town criers can be good places to find information.  Bartenders often sell rumors that point out interesting places to go and things to do.  Town criers will tell you something of what's going on, especially if you're ready to bribe them with a pyreal or two.

   So have fun, cheerio, and don't forget your towel.


author_Name: by Torvold Grimwold
author_Account: prewritten
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    For those who choose the path of mind of matter, it can be a daunting task to realize the true capabilities of magic.  I remember when first I arrived on this foreign world how difficult it was associating the incantation and intonation of magical phraseology with the correct reagents upon my person to achieve my allotted goal.  Now in my twilight years I have embarked on a newer journey, and this is at great relief I think to those of you who are newly come to this alien place with nary the knowledge that your first master would have ascribed to your grimoire.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Since my youngest days I have desired to acclimate and accommodate the fledgling mages of this Island called Dereth.  Yet even with my vast wealth and experience as an Archmage I lacked the tools necessary to disseminate the knowledge that I possessed to the masses of this land.  Now fortune has smiled upon me and in a sense you, as the Explorer Society has seen fit to publish this compendium as an aide to all apprentice Magi here upon Dereth.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Your first spells should have been taught to you by your masters on Ispar, as such you should know the rudiments of crafting spells with words, reagent and gesticulation required to impart your will over the forces of mana to a magical end.  But if you are as I was once, you are still a veritable newborn to mystical vernacular and awareness.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Thus I have created this diminutive tome to assist you in your trials and tribulations through the early stages of your magical intensification.  The most important thing to note is that the imbuing of magical force is handled primarily through the use of reagents.  Though the verbal incantation and gestures are used they are themselves a simple offshoot of the string, or formulae in which the reagents are ordered.  I will discuss each in the order that they should be arranged below.


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    Scarabs:  Scarabs are made of precious metals and determine the potency of the spell you wish to enact, the more precious or valuable the metal the more difficult and intense the spell to be cast.  Scarabs always occupy the first position when working with your formulae.  Though there are instances where the sheer magnitude of the spell to be cast will require the inclusion of more than one of these precious items.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Note: As the strength of a spell is amplified so too is the rate at which these components will be consumed by the sheer volume of magical energies being filtered through you.  Better they than your own body though.  Still the intelligent mage always carries extras of the more potent precious scarabs.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Herbs:  Herbs are an important part of the spell formulae as well. Typically these many components occupy the position just to the right of the scarab.  Though this is only for the simplest of magical workings.  Each of these herbs has a specific purpose in the casting of the spell whereby it determines the first word to be used in your magical incantation.  You need not bother yourself with the implementation of these words until you are ready to test your formulae however.


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    Powders: Powders are used to form the first syllable of the second word that must be spoken to draw upon the essence of magic.  This is the first step in giving the body of the spell a form of completeness.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Potions: These flasks of magical brews are used to determine the second syllable of the second word of imbuing and together with the gem powder it forms the final piece of the phraseology of imbuing.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Talismans: Talismans are the last determinant in the casting and they add the gesticulatory aspect of the casting.  Each talisman offers a different motion and if you observe other magi long enough you will be able to discern the different talismans that they use in their magical weavings.  As well the type of talisman used also determines the recipient of the spell, be it yourself, another or even an item.  Typically each of the schools only uses a few of the talisman for each of their many spells.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Now we can determine how the earliest spells are learned.  Through practice you will see that this small guide will aid you greatly in your travels and preparations.  However, there is one more step that I will explain as best I can.  As you progress through your years as a magi you will feel more closely in tune with the magics about you and you will indelibly choose to become a more potent magi.  That being said I will do my best to explain the importance and relevance of the final component used in magical weaving, the taper.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Tapers: These small candles assist in conducting and harnessing the forces of the mana stream.  They are used to enhance the effectiveness of the aforementioned components.  In doing so with the increase of the preciousness of the scarab so too comes the inclusion and positioning of a taper to assist in the fortifying of the other components, herbs at first, then powders and finally talismans.  They are the precursor to each of those thus why I state that they fortify each in turn.


author_Account: prewritten
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    The most difficult part of comprehending the taper is learning its relevance and how the spell force draws upon each at a new progression.  There is a complicated, yet logical, formula in determining the tapers necessary to cast the more potent of spells.  There is a rotation based off a numerical equation that is the main determinant in the personalized tapers that you will need to imbue your magics.  These can seem difficult at first but you will be able to discern the pattern after a few attempts and successes.


author_Account: prewritten
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    Track your progress and you shall see that the results do indeed form a specific pattern.  A last note on tapers, is that they increase in importance at second, third and fifth spheres.
    Armed with this knowledge you are now prepared to embark on your new course of becoming a more fluid conduit for the casting of magics.

    Torvold Grimwold, Archmage of the Dereth Exploration Society


author_Account: prewritten
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Nonetheless, in some cases an ignorant populace is far harder to manipulate than an educated one.   And so I share my travels and reminiscences with you.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.   

Chapter 1 -- Puppet, can be acquired from a new friend of mine, Ketnan, in the remains of Arwic.  I may have overdone my persuasion some, so he may be a touch skittish.  I felt bad for him, so I have allowed him to sell my work for money.  


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Morningthaw PY 14 -- Renegade Tumeroks Establish Training Camps Near Dryreach

Reports are trickling in that certain clans of the Hea Tumeroks have established extensive training camps near the town of Dryreach. These Tumerok clans were last seen as part of the invading Virindi force in Verdantine PY 12. The residents of Dryreach feel increasingly threatened by this buildup of Tumerok forces, and Queen Elysa has asked for volunteers to probe these camps. Any information the volunteers gather should be reported to the leaders of the Isparian Armed Forces stationed in Cragstone, Hebian-To, and Zaikhal. 


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Preliminary reports indicate camps at the following locations:

Falcon: 75.0E, 2.0N
Serpent: 70.0E, 1.0S
Shreth: 68.0E, 5.0S
Reedshark: 68.0E, 13.0S
Gromnie: 70.0E, 16.0S
Mask: 75.0E, 16.0S


author_Name: Amaltah
author_Account: prewritten
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My brothers, sharpen your claws and make ready your positions, for we who were once beneath the shroud of atua ngamaru have found allies. They have pledged to give assistance to us as we claim a homeland in our name. Our banners will rise alongside the breadth of all the Tonk!

Now, make ready, and train our forces near the Isparian city of Dryreach. When we are prepared, we will siege the city and claim the land for our own.


author_Name: Amaltah
author_Account: prewritten
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Hear me, Serpent Clan: Your efforts are not forgotten, and you are needed by those who call you brother. Atua ngamaru has abandoned us, and it is time we carve a homeland for ourselves and take what is ours. We shall need your knowledge, your cunning, and your bite. You shall be exalted among us as brothers and heroes.

Gather with us near the Isparian settlement of Dryreach. We train there for our conquest.


author_Name: Amaltah
author_Account: prewritten
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The time of our emancipation is at hand! Call the Tonk, young and old, to rally beneath your Shreth banner, and join your brothers as we throw off the yoke of oppression and forge a new homeland.

Gather your forces near besieged Dryreach, for there we shall train a vast horde to march against our enemies. 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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I place my Keh in your hands. I listen like the Forest. I know like the Mountain. I speak like the River. I place my Keh in your hands. I listen to the Truth. I speak the Truth. I place my Keh in your hands. Here are my words true.

***

Four nights ago, my dreamwalk led to the outskirts of a wood.  Long limbed ikatans armored in bark strove greedily for the sky. Tens of tens of tens of the trees greeted me in every direction, and I could feel the hunger of many more tens of tens of tens    


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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behind them. Splayed in every direction between the ikatans lay grass and root and flower, a lush and verdant skin which rippled with each wind's breath.

Although I strode confidently up to the edge of the forest, I felt an awe that bordered on fear.  But in my dreamwalk I was helpless to stop myself as I shouted my name and arrival to the dark and hungry woods. 

There was no echo as each word uttered from my mouth was seemingly snatched out of the air by the ikatans before they 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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even had time to breathe. The trees' higher branches twisted and bowed in my direction as if to partake of more delicacies that I might offer.  I felt the urge to tell my Life Tale, as if I was before the Council and preparing myself the night before a Battle of Honor. But I knew there was no such Battle forthcoming.  I knew I had many more greetings to offer the sun and the moon before I caught a glimpse of Wharu, and yet I could feel the words starting to pour from my lips, when I saw her.

A group of ikatans in the very center of the forest edge shimmered and glowed, and the


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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glow coalesced into a fair form before me.  Tall she was, her ears wide and beautiful, and her tusks were magnificent and strong. 

"I am Tanae," she began, and I thought my heart would burst with the sound of her loveliness.  Her voice was a melody of gold that soothed my fear, each word hanging in the air like a summer cloud.  But when she spoke, the branches of the ikatans stirred not at all.  "Know that when the Tonk reverberated across the heavens, my eldest sister was there to hear it.


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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"Countless moons have passed since the first sound, and many of my elder sisters have since risen and fell.   But I am here, though none except my eldest sister has seen a world stranger.  I am here and I listen.  I hear the chattering winds, I hear the tonk as it builds the akiekie, I hear the Wharu come and go, a blight upon me and yours.  I hear all.  Whisper or shout, secret or tale, truth or lie, I hear.  But what shall I tell you?  Volkama is our speaker.  But when Palenqual demands, who is Tanae to say no?


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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"So listen, Aun Shimauri, listen to the truth of my words.  My totem is loose in the world.  Find it amongst your misguided brethen.  Three boons have I laid upon it.  The skill of regeneration, for flame is an ever present danger for me and my sisters, and always will we grow back after the inferno. The skill of thorns, for we listen, yes, but we are not always passive.  I can be prickly, little one, so beware your travels in my domain.  The skill of precision, for nothing that I or my sisters do is left up to chance. To you the forest may seem a random collection of growth upon the skin of our blessed mother. But I know where 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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every tree is in my forest, every blade of grass and every flower.  These are the boons I have made for you.  These are the blessings for you to take.

"Go now, little Shimauri.  Go and spread my word.  For others must do the listening now."  And with this final burst of melody her body shimmered and glowed, and when the light was gone only the ikatans remained.

And then my dreamwalk took me to other places and I heard other words.  Words about me and mine, and perhaps a word or 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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two of you and yours.  But what happened there is not for your ears to hear, nor the ears of any, until the day you listen to my Life Tale.  

***

Three nights ago, my dreamwalk led me to the base of a mountain.  Immense the mountain was, full of stone and strength and hard, sharp, jutting teeth.  It ascended far above the wispy clouds, and even the playful breezes,usually full of life and gossip, paid the proper respect to the mountain. Unlike the woods of the night


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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before, the mountain did not seem to hunger for my words or for any other thing.  It merely sat there, large and solid, as if it had always been there and always would be.

This time I could not even muster the appearance of confidence as I slowly approached the high stone walls.  But once again, I knew despite my fears that I must announce to the mountain that I was there.  And so I did.

Unbidden by any conscious intent, I wondered, as I had wondered oft back 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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when I was still a childling, what the name of my Mother had been, before she had beome Puh. My father would never speak of her, and I long ago learned to stop asking.  And then I knew.  I knew her name.  And I also knew why she had chosen my father over his brother, Telakanua, and how their continued rivalry forced her eventually onto the path that would lead her to be outcast from the tribe, never more to be seen or heard.

And I knew other things as well.  I knew the four sacred names of the Sun and what had happened to the three names that had 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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been lost. I knew the answer to the Riddle of Kaleh, I knew why it had still not been solved.  I knew how many people wished me direct harm and their names.  I knew why the moon is round.  I knew...

"Enough," a voice rumbled, and the knowledge pouring into my head ceased.  I still knew all these blessed things, about myself and my people, all these wonderful and tragic things.  But I found myself crumpled to the ground, knees bloody and torn from where they had dropped to the rock below, tears drying upon my face.  I knew much, but the knowledge hurt.  The 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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knowledge hurt very much. 

I lifted my head, and there before me stood one of the people, but his skin was grey and hard like the rock.  His eyes were flint, and he did not smile at me as Tanae had.  When he spoke, the words came out like stone grating against stone, harsh and full of soft thunder.

"Audetaunga is what I am known as amongst your people."  And with each word that he spoke, I knew the where and why of it. I saw the naming ceremony, and the dance and the song, and my heart 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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lifted with the sight of my people in a time before the Wharu had come.  "And when the Tonk came into being on the First Day, my eldest brother was there to know that it had happened, and that it was good.

"The mountains endure, little one.  They last far longer than my soft near-sisters and near-brothers.  And this is as it should be, as it was Spoken, for..." and almost did I know the truth of why this was, and almost I could conceive of a Life Tale being told, the Life Tale of the Creator itself. But I felt wetness pouring out of my ears and my eyes and my nose and when I wiped it 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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away with my hand, only then did I see my hand covered in my lifeblood.

"I am sorry, Aun Shimauri.  I know almost all and yet I forget much.  There is knowledge that the People were not meant to know, truths and glimpses of truth that are too sturdy and sharp for your fragile selves.  Rarely do I speak, yet for all my knowledge still would I not deny Palenqual when she comes to me.  Know these words, then, know them to be true.

"My totem is placed onto the world, taken by those who know far too much and far


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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too little.  Three powers have I given the totem knowledge of.  He who wields my totem shall know strength, for one must be strong to hold all the knowledge of the earth and sky.  He who wields my totem shall know defense against an enemy, for knowledge one's enemies allows one to avoid harmful strikes.  He who wields my totem shall know speed against an enemy, for knowledge of one's tools allows one to be swift and sure in their use.  These are the three knowings I have granted to the people.  These are the three gifts from the mountain.


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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"Go now, little Shimauri.  Go and spread my word.  For others must have the knowledge now."  Unlike Tanae, he did not disappear, and so thinking my time here was done, I turned and began to walk away.

I had only reached a few steps when his voice rumbled in my ear once more.  "For the second time I must apologize to you, Aun Shimauri.  I am glad we do not spend more time together for if a Lesser earns three apologies from an Elder, then will that Lesser and Elder exchange places, and I am content to reside in my stone and knowing. You have learned things tonight


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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that you were not meant to know.  You may not leave here with those particular gifts."  And I could feel the knowledge leaving my head.  No longer did I know why the moon was round, and what the answer to Riddle of Kaleh would be.  But surely he would not take...

I screamed.  My voice rose and rose and rose and it did not fall.  I held nothing back.  Let him hear my pain and anger, et him apologize to me one more time, and then I would be the mountain, and I would know the name again. I would never forget my mother's name. But after a time, my screams


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
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fell to silence.  I opened my eyes but Audetaunga was gone.

And though I did not wish to go, my dreamwalk took me to other places, and I knew other things.  Things about me and mine, and perhaps a thing or two about you and yours.  But what happened there is not for your head to know, nor the heads of any, until the day you know my Life Tale.

I would trade all of the knowledge I gained that night for the name of my mother.

***


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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Two nights ago, my dreamwalk led me to the banks of a river.  Wide and sinuous it was, a blue sparkled serpent that flashed as it undulated from one end of the horizon to the other.  At some places the river was peaceful and calm, its soft pulses chirping with the mischievous breezes overhead .  At other places the river surged and sprinted, white rapids crashing into stony outcrops on the river floor. There were fish knifing up through the surface and splashing back down to the river depths, and large black birds that would occasionally follow the fish down and bring it back up as an unwilling guest to a 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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daytime meal.  There were dragonflies and frogs and small sea-snakes, and along the banks of the river there were grasses and flowers and baby carenzi, and all of them chirping and squawking and burbling, one large symphony of wind and air, water and life.

I approached the river without cares, lulled to peace by its music and song.  With a joy I had not felt for some time I added the sounds of my name and greeting to the ongoing melody. I could see my addition to the sounds and activity of the river swirl 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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around, tossed back forth between the breezes, then dropped down to a frothy blue tendril that splashed over and around my name.  My name whirled up and spun, gaining speed, faster and faster, with the river water rising up and through it, until there was a vortex of water spinning, spinning, spinning. 

And when it stopped, there stood before me a woman lithe and long.  Her form was supple and showed strength, although she did not have the obvious beauty of Tanae. And there was a constant shimmer to her shape that made her uncomfortable to look 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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at for any length of time.  Ribbons of her flesh would flow and loop in and around her and when the wind gusted she seemed like she might melt away.  But when I closed my eyes the melody filled my ears, intense and personal, and I could have listened to it forever.

"Greetings and many welcomes I offer to you this day, Shim, the Aun Shimauri, beloved of my near-sister Wind and of Aun Nuahlauri and of the xuta Aun."  Her voice was the melody and yet also separate.  I could not tell whether the words came out of the melody, or sung in counterpart.  Her 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
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voice filled my head.

"I am Volkama, the River, and when the Tonk first sung the songs of creation and destruction, there my eldest sister was to whisper and shout the glories of its creation to all of its inhabitants.  We all have our place, Aun Shimauri. Tanae sits and waits and hears all.  She passes on that knowledge to Audetaunga, our brother, who sifts through each word and story.  And most of what Tanae passes on he records for all time in his strong stone walls. And then he passes on to me the stories and tales that shall be sung from the 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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sky to the earth and to all who dwell in between.

"That is my role, young cousin, and I perform it well.  And I could speak to you of many things, you could sit at my banks for tens of tens of years, entranced by my every word until you lay silent, a collection of bones.  But Palenqual has asked me to be brief. And though I am the Speaker for us all, when Palenqual speaks, so shall I listen.

"I have spoken my totem onto the world, now stolen by those who can nevermore speak true. Three whisperings have I shared


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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with my totem.  I whispered the word of endurance, for long must I travel to touch the ears of all in this world.  I whispered the word of speed, for fast must I travel to catch the ears of all in this world.  I whispered the word of skill, for adept must I be to find those who do not wish to be found.  From the beginning it was known that all must hear the words of the Speaker, and so have I Spoken, on countless other worlds than this.

"These are the three songs I have sung to the people. These are my words of power for you to hear. Go now, dear little 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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Shimauri. Go and spread my word.  For other must speak these truths now."  And with that the melody subsided to a whisper, and Volkama lost her form and softly flowed back into the river.  And then the melody was gone.

But I found myself speaking and singing when the melody ended.  In this way I was able to keep an echo of the joy I had felt. And then my dreamwalk took me to other places, and there I sung other harmonies.  Songs about me and mine, and perhaps a song or two about you and yours. But what happened there is not for your mouth to 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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sing, nor the mouths of any, until the day I tell my Life Tale.

***

Last night, before I gathered myself up for sleep, and perhaps another walk in the realm of stars, I thought about what I had seen and heard and said.  I thought about beautiful Tanae, and how the branches of her ikatans sucked up hungrily each word that I spoke. I thought about stern Audetaunga, and the cruelty of not letting me keep my mother's name. I thought of the gracious Volkama, and what a life it must


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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be, forever flowing and sharing and spreading joy.

And then...and then I realized what was wrong.  Imagine one day you woke up and saw the Sun.  And the Sun was yellow.  And you thought to yourself, "Yes, the Sun is yellow.  It has always been yellow. This is as it should be."  And you went on your way and performed all the tasks necessary for your xuta and yourself. But then some time passed, and the thought struck you, "But the Sun has never been yellow.  It has always been red. But for some reason I did not remember that when I saw it this 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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morning. I just thought it had always been yellow."  And you might have been angry at the Sun for playing tricks on you, although eventually you would realize that the Sun may do and go and turn colors as it wishes, and much the fool you would be to offer it challenge.

But three times I had been visited by the gods.  And at no time did I seek them out, or when met did question their wishes.  And three times they had played their tricks on me.

For long have I known the history of my


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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people, and the history of my gods. And here is the story that is passed on, from my father to me, and from his father to him, and on, from the very first days of Ezheret-Hazahtu and the first Tonk. And like any child would know, I know that Tanae is a man, and Volkama is the son of Mother Audetaunga.  I knew this, and yet in my dreamwalk I knew no such thing.  There Tanae was a beautiful woman and Audetaunga was the brother of Volkama, not her (or was it his?) mother. And I had never considered that there was anything wrong with this, although in the waking world I knew a completely different set of 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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truths.

I pondered this long, until the moons were high in the sky.  I could not discern what had been true and what had been false.  Never before these last three nights had I heard of Tanae as the Listener, and Audetaunga as the Knower, and Volkama as the Speaker. What was true? And as I went to sleep, I wondered which gods I would speak to tonight, and what mysteries would be resolved with the arrival of the Sun. 

***


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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I did not know how long I had been walking.  And although I came upon many a wood, and mountains, and rivers, I felt no need to approach any of them.  I knew I needed more walking, and so walk I did.

And lost in the walk as I was, with the simple rhythmic pattern of foot after foot with the thumping of tail,  
the next time I looked up I found myself walking in the sky amongst the night lights.  Below me was the whole of Palenqual in all her glory. A diamond of lush green, its blue rivulets interlaced amongst its grey stony cliffs. I stopped


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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walking and looked down at the beauty of Palenqual.  Long did I stand there in the sky and look at the face of my land.  We still talk about Ezheret-Hazahtu with the proper respect, but our children have known Palenqual as their only home.  This is our home.  The Hea have forgotten this.  They look at this land as raiding grounds, as spoils of the battle.  But it is our home.  We will not be going back to Ezheret-Hazahtu. 

I was filled with sadness then.  Sadness and fear.  I wondered, as I stood there high in the sky, if I would ever see my people 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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again. And I could see darkness creeping over my land, blacking out all the colors and life of my Palenqual.  And the darkness did not stop there, but kept on crawling and seething in all directions, a black roiling flood that stretched from horizon to horizon.  Blackness overcoming the world.  Was this to be our fate?  Did our destiny end here in the darkness?

How long?  How long did we have?

"Not so very long."  The voice reverberated around me.  The blackness receded from below, slipping over the horizons.


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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Palenqual's face once more shone beneath me, except now her face was an actual face.  She was smiling.  And as I stared at that smiling face, a face I thought I could gaze at forever, it started to approach me.  And as it did, I realized the face was attached to a head, the head to a body, and that body, that beautiful body, was walking towards me up through the sky.


"No, not so long, Aun Shimauri.  The darkness will come soon, come and overcome much."  It was hard to hear a voice so beautiful tell a tale so painful.  


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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Why would this be so?  How could she let it happen?  Thoughts were rushing too fast in my head for me to be able to speak.  She was still smiling.  "But the people will survive, Little Shim.  They will survive.  You have my promise on this.  The darkness will come, and we will be lost and saved and lost again in the darkness.  But we will survive.

"Four times now you have gone on the dreamwalk.  For three of those last nights you have met my children.  And now, here, we meet, as I knew we would when I was 
but a small child of molten rock and 


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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hissing steam.  I knew that we would meet, and I knew what I would say.


"But sometimes the game changes.  You did not know that, did you?  I have always known we would be here, and I knew my part to play.  But now here we are, and there are things we must discuss that have little to do with the ways ordained.  Remember that, Shimauri.  No matter how well you may think you know your part, sometimes the game changes.  But we will survive.


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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I had no idea what she referred to.  Games?  Parts to play?  It made no sense.  But her voice, her voice would stay with me forever.

"First, the totems. They were meant for Timaru, for those who stayed true.  But the Hea xuta, they who chose the path of kah, have taken them from their rightful place. You know enough now to counsel those who can help you bring them back.  And do bring them back, Shimauri, for though they will not stop the darkness, we shall need all the power we can gather in these days before the end.


author_Name: Aun Shimauri
author_Account: prewritten
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"And now, three final matters before I leave you, Aun Shimauri."  How I wish I could relate to you what those three matters were!  But as she told me, the game changes.  The game changes and I must remain silent for now.  But I will help to take back the totems of Tanae, Audetaunga, and Volkama.  I will collect them and let the people, all the peoples of this world, use them.  Oh my poor children.  The darkness changes and the world comes.  One day I shall know my mother's name.


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
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Taiaha.  A beautiful word.  I think of farewells on a sandy beach, the sun setting into a blue on blue horizon.  "Taiaha," they would say.  "Taiaha," I would return, the last words spoken before night and sleep came upon us.

But that is not what it means at all.  In its native language, taiaha means spear.  A stick with a pointy end.  It has had many different uses, I am sure.  Hunting, perhaps some fishing, if one is really good.  It is one of a number of tools that made our civilization possible. 


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
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But really, at its essence, it is a tool of war.  Used to kill people.  A thousand people on one end of a field, a thousand different people at the other end.  They shout at each other in excitement as they rush towards the middle of the field to greet each other.  But the pleasantries they exchange are their taiahas, sticking them into each other as fast and hard as they can.   The point of the taiaha is transformation: to transform live beings into dead bodies.    


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
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Such a poor juxtaposition of word and meaning proves one important point: that stupidity in a species is not limited to just us humans.

My new friends amongst the Tumeroks regale me with stories about their ways and culture.  They seem to take particular pride in pointing out the foibles of their men, how easily led astray they are by their honor and pride.  It is an old story: men acting foolishly, and women taking care to highlight it.  Yet another way in which our two species are very similar.


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
So here is a story of men and war, honor and pride, and a very unique Taiaha.  I heard it last night, from my Tumerok friends, and here I will share it with you as it was told to me.

********** 


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
And when our people found themselves in this strange land with only two moons, we had no Tonk Anixutah.  So we soon fell to squabbles and discord, and in the end, there were two xuta who contested to lead the Tonk.  The Aun were blinded by the far of this new land, and by the new beings who appeared to show us our way.  Atua Ngamaru, they called them, the floating demons.  But we, the Hea, saw in these beings the reason why we were brought to this land, and we called them Atual Arutoa, the givers of freedom.


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
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And they were our gate to freedom, for our old forms and ways were unsuited to this place, and to not change was to die.  So we made our bargain with the Atual Arutoa, and we became truly the Hea, separate and onto ourselves, and we took over this new planet.


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Aun, unable to match our strength or numbers, remained here on the original island.  Resentful of our abilities, they engaged in continual sabotage of our plans and sought to destroy all that the Hea had wrought.  Time and time again, they sent emissaries and warriors, spies and thieves, to try and stop us.  When outright force failed, they turned to destruction in the night.  When terror failed, they turned to cunning words.  When those failed, they tried naked pleading.  And when that failed, the cycle would turn once again to violence and war.


author_Name: Bachus Flufens
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There was one Aun who was most persistent.  Aun Tanua, he called himself.  He was tall and strong and proud, the oak ran strong in him.  Unlike many of the Aun, he did not attempt to fight or insult us.  Rather, he called out for our champion to face him in a one on one duel.  If Tanua won, then that would be a sign from Audetaunga that the Hea had disgraced the Tonk, and they should seek out the Atual Arutoa and break the bargain that we made.

And so the story begins...but it does not end there, not now, not ever.  But the rest will be known in due time.


author_Name: The Crafter's Journal
author_Account: prewritten
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I am heartened by the cooperation of my two new colleagues in the northern and southern installations. Sadly, they are the only ones who share my views. I experience something we call "irony" at the opposition we have encountered from the Speaker of the New Directive and the inner circle, the founders of our movement. They who had the courage to rebel against the Directive and to seek a home outside of the Quiddity are now the ones who look upon our next step forward with suspicion and doubt.


author_Name: The Crafter's Journal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The logic of our movement is unassailable. The forms we maintain in this realm are crude and imperfect, too far removed from the physical essence at the core of this realm's power. If we are to establish a New Singularity, we must give ourselves to the unique properties of our new home. Just as we cannot truly divorce ourselves from the Quiddity until we are freed of our dependency on the Singularity, we cannot become truly a part of a New Singularity created in this realm unless we embrace the physicality of this realm. We cannot know what it is that gives the humans their unique consciousness until we have immersed ourselves in their forms.


author_Name: The Crafter's Journal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To this end, I have crafted new forms, shaped in the images of the humans who have proven to be such worthy foils to all our plans. The Speaker originally expressed enthusiasm for my creation, thinking to use them as a vehicle to carry forth our assaults upon human strongholds. When I informed the Speaker, however, that these new creations were to be subjects of research first, and eventually more powerful vessels for ourselves, he recoiled. The Speaker insisted that cloaking ourselves in physical form would taint our purity and reduce us to the level of crude beasts, like the humans.


author_Name: The Crafter's Journal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Only after lengthy argument, with the support of my two colleagues, did the Speaker give me leave to continue my work, but I was told to never expect others to join me in my "horrifying debasement." We were given resources and permission to establish research facilities, as well as favorable arrangements with local tribes of our allies, the ones called Tumeroks. In exchange, we are to keep to ourselves, report any "useful" findings, and to keep from proselytizing the other members of the New Singularity movement.


author_Name: The Crafter's Journal
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Against the wishes of the Speaker, my two colleagues and I took the final step in the name of our research and in the name of progress for all. We brought ourselves forward and occupied these forms. They are all I could hope for, and more. They provide the physical vigor and adaptability possessed by our human rivals, and seem to have left unaffected our mental resources and facilities for the practice of power. Perhaps when we have demonstrated our new capabilities to the Speaker and the inner circle, they will accede to the wisdom of my research and join us in our exalted forms.


author_Name: The Crafter
author_Account: prewritten
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Honored colleague,
    I hope you enjoy the capabilities of the new form which I have constructed for you. I am gratified that you have decided to accept the wisdom of my research, and I must express my certainty that you will find nothing to regret in our current course. We are innovators among the innovators. The Speaker and the inner circle have rightly chosen to break away from the Quiddity and make a new Singularity in this realm, but they do not yet understand that a new Singularity also requires a new form!


author_Name: The Crafter
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
    Please keep me informed of the progress you make with your preparations in the northern fortress. I have established a base of experimentations here in the ridges of the eastern desert edge and await your first missive.

--The Crafter


author_Name: The Crafter
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Honored colleague,
    Allow me to express my gratitude that you have joined in this great experiment, an experiment that will be revealed to be as ambitious as the very establishment of the New Singularity! As we have shed our dependency on the Singularity and the Quiddity, so must we shed the poor disguises and half-formed vessels that our flawed forebears crafted for us in this realm. With the research you and our colleague in the northern desert conduct, we will be able to convince the inner circle and the Speaker of the rightness of our new ways.


author_Name: The Crafter
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
    I look forward to sharing our discoveries for the advancement of our conditions. The stability of the fragile New Singularity will rest on our endeavors!

--The Crafter


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have to hand it to the Virindi. They're learning. I've stumbled upon a new set of Virindi installations, where they seem to be crafting servant creatures that look much more convincingly human. Beware these insidious creatures. We've decided to name them "Simulacra." Some are pretty fair melee fighters, while the worst ones combine weapon skill with overpowering magical assaults.


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I've taken some pains to explore the installations from where these creatures seem to originate. There's one north of Al-Jalima and east of Zaikhal, one south of Khayyaban, and one in the mountainous terrain south of Samsur. Some adventuruous friends and I journeyed into each of these installations. They are all overrun with allies and servants of the Virindi. We found a particularly powerful Simulacrum in charge of each installation, and each one bore a noteworthy item. We found a shield on one creature, a helm on a second, and a spellcasting orb and some kind of bizarre gem on the third.


author_Name: Ardry the Dubious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The shield, helm, and orb are all nice items, but my Uncle Aliester, who's done plenty of research on this sort of thing, tells me that the gem can be used to improve the enchantments on each of the items even further. He warns me, however, that the gem has a particular "attuning" behavior - that the person who imbues an item with the gem's power will be the only person who can ever use that item.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Honored ally,

We are pleased to have your cooperation and assistance in this important phase of our joint plan.  Guard the mineral well.  One of our own has betrayed us and provides traitorous advice and guidance to the humans.  Expect human raids in your installation.  As soon as we have completed the construction of our New Singularity, we will assist you in your efforts to circumvent the defenses of your home fortress.

-- Speaker of the New Directive


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Colleague,

A disaster has come to pass.  The fool Ecorto has broken from our unity, has defected to the humans and tells them of our plans and our installations around the island.  Be prepared for the humans to do their worst.  They are barbaric and crude and worthy only of destruction, but they are maddeningly persistent and clever.  Should our inferiors fail us, it remains to you to make sure that your own reserves of material remain inviolate.

-- Speaker of the New Directive


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Servant,

You and your host are the first line of defense against the humans.  Guard your charge well.  Ecorto has most likely told the humans of your location.  Should even one human slip past your defenses, you will feel our wrath and be subjected to such tortures as were not even visited upon the meatling Martine.

-- Speaker of the New Directive


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Master,
The day is won. We have destroyed six of the nine. Soon, master, soon, they will all fall. I hate the fleshy things so much, master. It hurts. I see their glows, their bright and shiny glows, and I hate the glows. I love it when I break through the glows and their flesh, master. I am not the hollow one, they are. Nothing but flimsy flesh and liquid inside. Empty. I have hate that fills me up. I am not hollow. There are so many of them and I hate them.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
When we break them, when we break them completely and utterly, I will keep a few around, just to play with. But just a few. I couldn't stand the sight of more than a few. The second stage will be soon, Master. I will not fail.


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
COMBAT

Dereth can be a dangerous place--you must learn to defend yourself!

First, prepare for battle. Click on the backpack icon to open your Inventory Panel. Drag a weapon from your inventory to the weapon slot, marked with an axe. You can also drag ammunition to the ammo slot, marked with arrows.

Click on the dove icon to enter Combat Mode, which will display the Combat  Bar.

(Click on the green arrow to read more!)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Select a target by clicking on it or its dot on the compass.

Finally, click on the attack height to begin your attack. To hit low targets, you must hit low. To hit hovering targets, you must attack high.

The three bars at the top of the screen show your Health, Stamina, and Mana. 

If you run out of stamina, your attacks will be weak. If you run out of health, you will 
die!

(Click on the green arrow to read more!)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Your target's health is displayed below its name in the bottom-right corner of the screen. When your target runs out of health, it will die. Double-click on its corpse to check for loot!


SPELLCASTING

If you are trained in any form of magic, you must know how to cast spells.

To see what spells you have, click the wand icon to open your spellbook.

(Click on the green arrow to read more!)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To see what a spell does, appraise it with the magnifying glass, or right-click on it.

To cast a spell, go to the Inventory Panel and drag your wand to the weapons slot.

Click the dove icon to display the Spellcasting Bar.

Select a spell from the Spellcasting Bar, select your target, then click the Cast button. Also, try casting spells on yourself!

(Click on the green arrow to read more!)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Watch the blue mana bar at the top of the screen. If it runs out, you can't cast spells.

Casting spells requires components--scarabs, herbs, and other objects. If these components are consumed through spellcasting, you can buy new ones in town.

Now those are the basics of combat and spellcasting -- go out and give it a try!


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
GUIDE TO HEALING

The three bars at the top of the screen show your Health, Stamina, and Mana (magical energy).

If you run out of Stamina, your attacks will be weak. If you run out of Mana, you will not be able to cast spells. If you run out of Health, you will die!

All three will replenish themselves in time, but there are ways to make this process faster.

(Click the green button to read more.)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Regaining Health

Those with the Healing Skill can use healing kits to regain health points. Double-click on the healing kit, then select the injured person.

Tip: Drag your healing kit's icon to the row of slots at the bottom of your screen to create a short cut.

Alternatively, you can use health potions to regain health. Double-click on these potions to use them.

(Click on the green button to read more.)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Regaining Stamina

There are many foods as well as stamina potions in Dereth that you may consume in order to regain stamina.  Double-click on them to use them.  If you run out of both, you can also lie down in a safe place--your stamina will return as you rest.

Regaining Mana

These are also some foods that will help you regain mana. The most easily available way to replenish your mana is to use mana potions.

(Click on the green button to read more.)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Death and Resurrection

Characters die when their Health points reach zero.

Your character will be resurrected immediately at the last lifestone you used or at the last location where  you started the game, but will leave behind one or more items and half the pyreals in your Inventory. The number of Items lost depends on your character's level. Higher-level characters lose more items than lower-level characters. Player killers lose more than nonplayer killers.

(Click on the green button to read more.)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Your corpse will remain where you died for a short time, making it possible for you or others to retrieve your lost items.

Vitae

When your character dies and is resurrected, your Vitae (lifeforce) is temporarily drained, reducing your secondary attributes (Health, Stamina, and Mana) and skills. As you earn more experience, your Vitae will be restored gradually. While your Vitae is reduced, you will see a yellow and red starburst in the upper-right corner of the game screen.

(Click on the green button to read more.)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Corpse Recovery

To find your corpse, type "@corpse". Your corpse's location will appear in the chat window.


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
When you gain in experience, you can raise your Attributes and Skills to modify your character. Look under your Inventory for a green button with an icon of a flexed arm, and click on it. This will bring up your Attributes and Skills panel.

Click on the Attribute you would like to raise. If you have enough experience to raise that attribute, a green "Raise" button will appear in the lower-right corner of your Attributes and Skills Panel.

(Click on the green arrow to read more!)


author_Name: Training Master
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Click on the "Raise" Button to raise the Attribute you selected. 

You can also raise your Skills the same way. Click on the Skills tab to see your skills.

When you gain in level, you can earn skill credits. You can use these skill credits to train in skills you do not have yet.


author_Name: The Jolly Snowman
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Sculpting a Snowman
   You too can create a snow sculpture and you don't need any fancy skills to do it. All you need are the ingredients and a good place to show off your sculpture.
   Collect the following: 1 Magic Iceball, 2 Poofy Snowballs, a Strange Stick and a Carrot.
   Smoosh the Magic Iceball onto a Poofy Snowball to get a snowman torso which you combine with the other Poofy Snowball to get a basic snowman body. Add your Strange Stick for arms and then your Carrot for the nose and you should have a handsome Snowman to show your friends.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I need you elsewhere, Menacet. Delegate the subversion of the last remaining Arrival Points to one of your servants and visit me immediately. The next stage of the plan will soon be in place. With these attacks we have restricted the new blood from refreshing the Isparian public body. Soon we will deliver the death blow to the body that remains.

Do not increase the pressure on the Arrival Points yet. If our next venture succeeds, then it may be beneficial to keep potential new crops ripe for harvest.

-M


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There have recently been strange portal disturbances near the nine Nexus Towns. Sages are still uncertain of their origin, for the magic bears a quality never encountere until now. We must do what we can to protect the most vulnerable among us, those who have just arrived and lack knowledge and protection in this world. I am tasking you to train these new arrivals. Give them the skills they need to survive here, for as long as the danger endures. Once stability returns to the Nexus Towns, I will recall you to rejoin your colleagues. 
(Sealed with the Sigil of Elysa Strathelar, High Queen of Aluvia)


author_Name: Strathelar Guard
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Arcanum has discovered portal disturbances near the 18 arrival points. In response, our Queen has sent her Guards to fortify the Academy outposts of Holtburg, Shoushi, and Yaraq. Also, she has charged the Arcanum to graft the levitation magic found in the Empyrean storehouses in Xarabydun onto freshly-carved Obelisks.

It is hoped that the presence of these markers around the safest perimeters of these towns will stabilize the shifting portal space in these areas; however, new arrivals should take care to remain within these boundaries until they gain enough experience to brave the harsher wilds of Dereth.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dranith--you are a faithful servant. I was...harsh during my last visit. I forget what it was like to have an unreasonable master. You did not fail. All goes according to plan.

I am proud of you, my creation. I look at you, at your anger, the bright beautiful purity of your rage, and I am content with my work.

Remember, you must instruct the infiltrators to have patience, to wait for the right moment to strike. Too soon, and they will be slaughtered before they reach the child.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Did this child hurt me? Is he the reason why I am what I am? No. But Asheron took my family away from me. And if I cannot find him, I will at least cause him pain, pain enough to make him wish death. I am familiar with that type of pain.

- M


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Sir Tenshin,

The bearer of this message has done me a great service in Holtburg. I have recently been keeping surveillance on one of the newer citizens of this town - a "reformed" bandit from Marae Lassel claiming to have turned over a new leaf. It appears that this stranger is not as he claimed. A note found in his possession implied that he was employed to transport a cargo of some sort of substance being collected in the depths of Asuger Temple.


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The adventurer you see before you penetrated the depths of the temple and found a band of Hollow Minions laboring over a strange device, collecting what looks to be concentrated portal space energy inside emulsified spherules of glass. I cannot fathom the purpose of these spherules--thinking better of performing my own analysis, I have sent the object to the Arcanum for examination. It would be best to get to the heart of this matter without delay.

With regards and congratulations for your latest promotion,

Rylanan


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Sir Tenshin,

It is with great haste that I write you this message. The bearer of this message brings you tidings from both Holtburg and Yaraq. First, my latest news. I have recently been keeping surveillance on one of the newer citizens of this town--a "reformed" bandit from Marae Lassel claiming to have turned over a new leaf. It appears that this stranger is not as he claimed. A note found in his possession implied that he was employed to transport a cargo of some sort of substance being collected in the depths of Asuger Temple. 


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The adventurer you see before you penetrated the depths of the temple and found a band of Hollow Minions laboring over a strange device, collecting  what looks to be concentrated portal space energy inside emulsified spherules of glass. I cannot fathom the purpose of these spherules--thinking better of performing my own analysis, I have sent the object to the Arcanum for examination. It would be best to get to the heart of this matter without delay.

I have appended a recent message from Dame Tsaya. She writes of a matter of great 
concern occurring near Yaraq--I add it here


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
verbatim so as not to lose the urgency of her words.

With regards and congratulations for your latest promotion,

Rylanan

***


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
(Copy of the letter from Dame Tsaya to Sir Rylanan)

Sir Rylanan,

I write my update to you with great fear and concern for the townsfolk of Yaraq. My last update to you recorded the arrival of a stranger new to town, who moved into the abandoned villa past the al-Luq residence.

I have just learned that he recently  encouraged the bearer of this message to visit a "friend" of his in the Darkened Halls to the north of here. Once there, the adventurer who stands before you was


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
attacked on all sides by a party of Hollow Minions, who were obviously lying in ambush for unwary explorers. There was a terrible device in the depths of the Halls, ostensibly created to extract  a living being's vitals from his own skin, leaving only a perfect human epidermis. One such human husk has been delivered to me, and I must report that the ghastly sight of it has not left me unshaken. I have reserved the remains for proper burial--I cannot imagine the final tortures this poor soul must have been subject to before his final passing.


author_Name: Sir Rylanan
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
What disturbs me the most is that I cannot discern a purpose for these atrocities. Who could find a need for these revolting trophies?

--Tsaya


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dame Tsaya,

It is with a great deal of stress and trepidation that I update you on the latest developments here in Shoushi. I have had reports that a farmer living on the outskirts of town had recently been acting extremely strangely--acting genially towards his customers one minute, then shouting and berating them in the next. What's more, he claimed to have come into a large inheritance-which is odd, because everyone in town  knows his parents remained in Ispar.

After interviewing the farmer, the bearer of this message found a trap door towards the 


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
rear of his house, leading down to a seeminly innocuous cellar. However, a large cache of weapons was found behind a hidden doorway as well as stacks of Guard uniforms.

Now I ask you, Tsaya, how could this farmer store such a large arsenal and obtain these obviously stolen uniforms? There must be breach in our security-the Queen must be notified at once.

Tenshin


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dame Tsaya,

You cannot imagine the state of apprehension I find myself in. I write to update you on the latest developments here in Shoushi as well as Holtburg.  I have had reports that a farmer living on the outskirts of town had recently been acting extremely strangely-acting genially towards his customers one minute, then shouting and berating them in the next. What's more, he claimed to have come into a large inheritance-which is odd, because everyone in town  knows his parents remained in Ispar.


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After interviewing the farmer, the bearer of this message found a trap door towards the rear of his house, leading down to a seeminly innocuous cellar. However, a large cache of weapons was found behind a hidden doorway as well as stacks of Guard uniforms.

Now I ask you, Tsaya, how could this farmer store such a large arsenal and obtain these obviously stolen uniforms? There must be breach in our security-above all, I fear for our Queen.

What's more, Sir Rylanan has just sent me a letter of recent events in Holtburg. In my


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
present nervous state I do not trust myself to summarize his words correctly, so I will add his words below. 

I believe we and the citizens of New Aluvia may be in danger, Tsaya. The Queen must be notified at once.

Tenshin

***


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Copy of the letter from Sir Rylanan to Sir Tenshin)

Sir Tenshin,

The bearer of this message has done me a great service in Holtburg. I have recently been keeping surveillance on one of the newer citizens of this town-a "reformed" bandit from Marae Lassel claiming to have turned over a new leaf. It appears that this stranger is not as he claimed. A note found in his possession implies that he was employed to transport a cargo of some sort of substance being collected in the depths of Asuger Temple.


author_Name: Sir Tenshin
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The adventurer you see before you penetrated the depths of the temple and found a band of Hollow Minions laboring over a strange device, collecting  what looks to be concentrated portal space energy inside emulsified spherules of glass. I cannot fathom the purpose of these spherules-thinking better of performing my own analysis, I have sent the object to the Arcanum for examination. It would be best to get to the heart of this matter without delay.

With regards and congratulations for your
latest promotion,
--Rylanan


author_Name: Dame Tsaya
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Sir Rylanan,

I write my update to you with great fear and concern for the townsfolk of Yaraq. My last update to you recorded the arrival of a stranger new to town, who moved into the abandoned villa past the al-Luq residence. I have just learned that he recently  encouraged the bearer of this message to visit a "friend" of his in the Darkened Halls to the north of here. Once there, the adventurer who stands before you was attacked on all sides by a party of Hollow Minions, who were obviously lying in ambush for unwary explorers. There was a terrible device in the depths of the Halls, 


author_Name: Dame Tsaya
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
ostensibly created to extract  a living being's vitals from his own skin, leaving only a perfect human epidermis. One such human husk has been delivered to me, and I must report that the ghastly sight of it has not left me unshaken. I have reserved the remains for proper burial--I cannot imagine the final tortures this poor soul must have been subjected to before his final passing.

What disturbs me the most is that I cannot discern a purpose for these atrocities. Who could find a need for these revolting trophies?

--Tsaya


author_Name: Dame Tsaya
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
ostensibly created to extract  a living being's vitals from his own skin, leaving only a perfect human epidermis. One such human husk has been delivered to me, and I must report that the ghastly sight of it has not left me unshaken. I have reserved the remains for proper burial-I cannot imagine the final tortures this poor soul must have been subjected to before his final passing.

What disturbs me the most is that I cannot discern a purpose for these atrocities. Who could find a need for these revolting trophies?


author_Name: Dame Tsaya
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
What's more, Sir Tenshin has written me with news from Shoushi. It seems strange happenings are not unique to Yaraq at this time. I include the text from his message below.

The Queen has promised that once stability returns to the region she will recall us to her side. I look forward to sharing a tankard of ale with you then.

--Tsaya

***


author_Name: Dame Tsaya
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
(Copy of a letter to Dame Tsaya from Sir Tenshin)

Dame Tsaya,
It is with a great deal of stress and trepidation that I update you on the latest developments here in Shoushi. I have had reports that a farmer living on the outskirts of town had recently been acting extremely strangely--acting genially towards his customers one minute, then shouting and berating them in the next. What's more, he claimed to have come into a large inheritance-which is odd, because everyone in town  knows his parents remained in Ispar.


author_Name: Dame Tsaya
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After interviewing the farmer, the bearer of this message found a trap door towards the rear of his house, leading down to a seeminly innocuous cellar. However, a large cache of weapons was found behind a hidden doorway as well as stacks of Guard uniforms.

Now I ask you, Tsaya, how could this farmer store such a large arsenal and obtain these obviously stolen uniforms? There must be breach in our security-the Queen must be notified at once.

--Tenshin


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
(The creases in the parchment have obscured much of the writing, but some of it is still discernible.)

...the perfect place to conduct our part of the plan. Asuger Temple ... A delicious irony that it would be here, under their very noses. We are close to refining the required amount of the substance--bide your time among the town's unwitting inhabitants until you are called to transport the cargo.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
You are already well paid for your storage facilities. Do not insult me again by asking for increased compensation. Do try to maintain an ordinary facade--it does not behoove you to call unwanted attention to yourself. Store these items until further notice, when you will be called upon to transport them to our factory.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have seeded one of my farmers in the cove of Yaraq. He will procure only the greenest of the crops for your harvest. Old Man Witshire's granaries are nearly ready to be filled.  I need not emphasize the importance of your mission. Do not disappoint me again.

(unsigned)


author_Name: FESTIVAL FOODS
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
FESTIVAL FOODS
     Cooks of Dereth have been hard at work and have added a collection of delicious new recipes to their cookbooks for the Festival Season.

Many of these recipes will become year-round favorites while some are centered on the festivities of the season.


author_Name: INGREDIENTS: Peppermint
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
NEW INGREDIENTS
     Recently three new ingredients have been found in Dereth and its neighboring islands.

Peppermint: Cooks have started using this new ingredient in their recipes since its appearance on Drudges and Mosswarts this winter. Many scholars believe that the mischievous creatures used some magical means to steal the Peppermint from the strange Candy Sticks that appeared in towns recently.


author_Name: INGREDIENTS: Nutmeg & Ginger
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
NEW INGREDIENTS (Cont.)
Nutmeg: The aromatic kernel of a small fruit, Nutmeg is found in the jungles of the Vesayen Isles in the Southeast. When ground, it adds a lovely flavor to certain dishes.

Ginger: Ginger, a root found in the South, is a powerful spice when ground and used in cooking. Cooks have already found they can use it to make Ginger Bread, and an industrious Tinsmith named Woz, has created cookie cutters that allow people to make Ginger Bread Cookies in interesting shapes. Distant provisioners have reported buying his wares.


author_Name: SANDWICHES
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
SANDWICHES
     A simple, but tasty meal for the busy adventurer or studious mind short on time.

Use the Carving Knife to cut some Bread into Sliced Bread that can be used with the following foods to make Sandwiches: 

  with Cheese: Cheese Sandwich
  with Chicken: Chicken Sandwich
  with Egg: Egg Sandwich
  with Fish: Fish Sandwich

Also for a change of pace you can use the Frying Pan on a Cheese Sandwich to make a nice hot Grilled Cheese Sandwich.


author_Name: DINNER: Mac&Cheese
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
DINNER FOODS
     Cragstone Farms is well known for their skillful cooking and catering. Now they bring us two new casserole recipes for the Festival Season, Cragstone Farms Mac&Cheese and Cragstonanoff.

Using raw noodles on cheese makes Cragstone Farms Mac&Cheese. Some unknown interaction between the noodles and cheese magically heats this delicious casserole*. 

*Alchemists are studying this culinary calefaction, but it currently remains a mystery peculiar to this world.


author_Name: DINNER: Cragstonanoff
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
DINNER FOODS
     Cragstonanoff is a wonderfully hearty meal with a rich new noodle ingredient.

You start by making some Batter, Dough+Egg. Using your Noodle Cutter cut out Raw Egg Noodles from the Batter and then use the Raw Egg Noodles on Ground Meat. After the magic heating stage you have a meal fit for Queen Elysa!


author_Name: DINNER: Dumplings
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
DINNER FOODS
     A little taste of Ispar; two dumpling recipes have been created. These simple foods evoke wonderful memories of our homeland and the things we left behind.

Dumplings are made with Rice Dough. Rice Dough is made by using a Mortar&Pestle on Uncooked Rice and then using the resulting Rice Flour on Water. Once you have your Rice Dough you wrap it around either Chicken or Fish to make Chicken Dumplings or Fish Dumplings just like mother used to make.


author_Name: DRINKS: Hot Chocolate
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
WINTER DRINKS
     For those who like nice hot drinks for the cold winter months, but don't like the agitation that coffee or tea can cause we have a sweet new drink to warm you up.

Hot Chocolate:  Heat some milk with your cooking pot. Take the Hot Milk and use it with Honey to get Sweetened Hot Milk. Cocoa Powder is then used on the Sweetened Hot Milk to make a rich cup of Hot Chocolate.

Peppermint Hot Chocolate:  Using Peppermint on Hot Chocolate adds a minty twist to this already delicious drink.


author_Name: DRINKS: Eggnog
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
WINTER DRINKS
     Definitely a seasonal favorite, Eggnog is a rich and spicy drink that can now be properly made due to the discovery of Nutmeg on the far Southern Vesayen Isles. Nutmeg is a spice of extreme use to cooks who we hope will continue to find new ways in which to use it.

First you need to grind your nutmeg into a useful form for cooking. Use the Heavy Grinder on the Nutmeg to make Ground Nutmeg. Use the Ground Nutmeg on Milk to make Spiced Milk and then use the Spiced Milk on an Egg to create the rich Festival Season treat of Eggnog.


author_Name: SNACKS: Stuffed Mushrooms
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
SNACKS
     Many people have Festival Parties in the winter months, especially now that they may have homes to invite their friends to. A new snack that can be served to your guests has been cooked up. Warning: Stuffed Mushrooms take time and patience to cook.

First use your Carving Knife on a mushroom to remove its stem. Use the Stemless Mushroom on some Cheese to stuff it. Use your Baking Pan on the Cheese Filled Mushroom to cook a mouth watering Stuffed Mushroom, perfect for your Festival get-togethers.


author_Name: TREATS: Peppermint Treats
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
TREATS
     Peppermint makes candy better. Minty goodness is making its way into all sorts of sweets.

Using a Peppermint Stick on a Milk Chocolate Bar makes a Peppermint Chocolate Bar with crushed peppermint in it, a very sweet recipe.

For those who enjoy Monougat... there's some long lasting chewy fun now. If you add Peppermint to Monougat you will make a Peppermint Monougat Chew.


author_Name: DESSERTS: Cookies
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
DESSERTS
   Peppermint in cookies? Of course!
Use Peppermint on Cookie Dough.
Use your Baking Pan on the resulting dough to bake three Peppermint Cookies.

Chocolate lovers rejoice!
Use Cocoa Powder on Cookie Dough to make Chocolate Cookie Dough. Use your Baking Pan on the resulting dough to make three Chocolate Cookies.

Use Peppermint on Chocolate Cookie Dough. Use your Baking Pan on the resulting dough to make a batch of three Peppermint Chocolate Cookies. Mmmm!


author_Name: DESSERTS: Ice Cream
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
DESSERTS
     Cooks are working hard at coming up with new flavors of Ice Cream. 
     "So far we only have four flavors, which isn't quite enough for an Ice Cream Shop,"
says Benjury Cookson, the leading researcher in Ice Cream recipes.
     "There have been some unfortunate flavors during my research. Cooking research can be very dangerous here on Dereth if you don't know what your doing. Its not as easy or safe as you might think."

Use a Peppermint Stick on Ice Cream to make Peppermint Ice Cream. Seems pretty easy.


author_Name: DESSERTS: Ginger Bread
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
DESSERTS
     Ginger is a spicy... spice you can use to... flavor up your cooking recipes. Some new recipes were made last month.

To use Ginger in cooking you first need to grind it. Use the Heavy Grinder on your Ginger to make Ground Ginger.

Use Ground Ginger on Dough to make Ginger Bread Dough. Use a Baking Pan on the dough to make Ginger Bread.

Or use a Cookie Cutter on the dough and then use your Baking Pan on the result to make a Ginger Bread Creature.


author_Name: REACTIONS
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
REACTIONS
Sho Actress: "I love all the Peppermint sweets and the Ginger Bread Drudges are really cute and tasty! Teehe!"
Gharu'ndim Vendor: "The Cragstonanoff is really powerful and aggressive. It's like a Lugian kind of food, I'd definitely eat this again."
Aluvian Scribe: "The new sandwiches are really clever, I never would have thought of them. Perfect for long writing sessions."
Arcanum Agent: "The stuffed mushrooms were really good, I can't stop eating them!"
Sho Cook: "I really like the way the ginger spices up the bread. It's really good bread, but with a new aspect."
Nuhmudira: "...very nice, now go away."


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
1st Earthday, Coldeve PY 13
Are all destinies fulfilled this way? My path was clear. It has always been one of my greatest strengths that I would sacrifice nearly all to achieve my goals. And when has ever a need been greater than ours at this time? I labor not to save myself but an entire race. A people already once-scorned and betrayed. I vowed that it would not happen again.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I come from a place with a legacy of conquest and bloodshed. I know well and intimately what such surroundings do to transform a culture, transform a people, people you may know and love...but who will still come around in the midst of night, stones and torches arrayed, to bring you to an ugly demise.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I vowed it would not happen again. No more violence. No more fear.

I have lost count of how many of the Marae outlaws I have put to the dagger on the cold stone slab. All for the good of the people.

The light still beckons, but the shadows grow long.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
1st Elderday, Coldeve PY 13
I am not a vain woman. Yes, certain manipulations were easier to perform when I was young and my face smooth and my hair fiery red. Men. But I have been only more effective as I grew older, and learned that ruthlessness was far more efficient than flirtation. The Aluvians called me the reincarnation of their Winter Queen, Alfrega with her flaming traces and ice-clad heart.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
But it is certainly not painful to see the smiles of some of the council. Let Celdiseth think I have lost my mind and am relying on dyes and creams. It saves me questions I could not answer. Although if Jaleh contrives to find me alone one more time...


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have not seen Elysa in almost two weeks. I should be concerned about this. I should be terrified. All those years I have put in to cultivate her trust, her friendship. And it was not feigned. Yes, she is young and naive. I was once, too. But the steel runs strong in her. Perhaps enough to become a true Queen. Just not quite ready to let herself do what the throne requires.

But I find it hard to care. A new participant awaits me in my residence. The Book is singing. I feel so strong.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Time is crafty. It does not batter you down in one blow, warning you of the danger, forcing you to take steps to ward off its cruel effects. Rather it slips in and out, grain by grain, second by second, sip of tea by sip of tea. I have been old. Old for so long. And it is only now I realize how weak I had become.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
2nd Moonsday, Coldeve PY 13
Snow falls all across Dereth, white wisps of crystalline perfection, unique in their form and beauty. In some places they land on the frost bitten sod amidst their brethren, and there they grow, covering the land in their pristine purity.

In other places they land and disintegrate. Beauty and prefection revealed for the ephemera they are.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Does that mean we should surrender? We should submit to time and chaos?

The Falatacot were wise. So much knowledge. I have spent my entire life facing persecution for my knowledge and power. It is fitting that I wear this mantle.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
2nd Freeday, Coldeve PY 13
Martine! The red sands take him! It is enough that he has more power than half this world...but that he is in thrall to these Empyreans! Although Elysa probably still believes this to be his work only. It is Asheron whispering in her ear. I should have taken care of that doddering mage a long time ago.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
But I did not have the power then...now, though...but no, convincing Elysa is no longer of import. Let her continue to be led astray by her Empyrean. Martine must be dealt with. For all my strength I would be snuffed like a flickering candle in a tempest should I approach him now.

I have more sacrifices to attend to. There must be an answer.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
5th Moonsday, Coldeve PY 13
Destiny surrounds me. I have doubted for so long whether my path was true. There are no more doubts. Fate extends her hand to remove mountains from my path and shield daggers from my back. I have agonized for these two last weeks over what to do with Martine.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
And Destiny answers.

This new apprentice is a marvel. The gifts he has to offer me...unparalleled. And he doesn't even know it. If our progress with the statues continue...oh, I can picture Martine now. I can taste it.

It tastes sweet.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
6th Elderday, Coldeve PY 13
I set this down for all who follow me to read and know.

Twenty-eight years ago, the first Isparians came to this place, alone, bereft of family and friends. And surrounded by monstrosities. Eventually, that threat was overcome.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I arrived shortly after the first Olthoi Queen had been dispatched. With no way back, and more Isparians arriving every day, I knew this place was to be our home.

I was determined to make it a permanent one.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I scoured this new world for knowledge and power. Everything I could learn about its former inhabitants I squirreled away, to be of use should they ever return.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I found a people almost as horrifying as the Olthoi. Worse. They thought themselves enlightened. Their concepts of 'civilization' shined through as they hewed and burned those peoples foreign and mysterious to them.

All of this, the sacrifices and spells, the blood and power, has been to thwart this Empyrean homecoming. But this is our home now. We shall turn back their invasion. I am not mad. Everyone will soon know.


author_Name: High Sentinel Echac
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The CEREMONY

All weddings are special events of great personal importance. They call for a deep and lasting commitment between people, and should not be entered into lightly. That said, the joys and happiness of marriage await!


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Here in Dereth, representatives of the heritage groups have agreed upon a common ceremony.  The ceremony will be overseen by The Grand Sentinels of the land.  The Queen has sent forth three Grand Sentinels in the fine tradition of Sentinels to continue this time-honored tradition.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A couple must first show The Grand Sentinel that they are of pure heart and understand all that comes along with marriage. To do so, The Grand Sentinels have formed a set of trials that will allow the couples to demonstrate their commitment to one another.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The trials will be conducted near Arwic. Each couple must collect the symbols that demonstrate their love and affection. These symbols can be combined into a Symbol of Marriage. Once each of you has created  a  Symbol of Marriage, show them to the Grand Sentinel to begin the ceremony.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Grand Sentinel has also decreed that once married, you will not be able to visit them for a time not shorter then three months.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
GUESTS

It is advised that if you are planning an outdoor wedding, that you limit your guest list to 35 to prevent the magic of the Portal Storm from disrupting the ceremony.

If you are planning a wedding larger then 35, the Queen has prepared a special Wedding Hall for your needs.  Weddings of a hundred plus guests have been held here, though not without their own drawbacks that come with lots of guests in one area.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
PREPARATIONS
Wedding Planners are available throughout the land.  There, you will be able to find everything you need to be able to have a wedding you will never forget.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Am I dying?

So weak, these things, driving new thoughts into me, someone else's not mine.

What have I done, what have I done?

I am sorry Yal ibn Rab, I was blinded, what have I done?

Is there forgiveness left in this world?


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Haerodim you will have your soul stripped from you unless you confess your crimes in this oubliette. 

Your accusers will cast their vote. You will live should they choose to sacrifice of themselves for you. If they find you guilty of your crimes, then they shall choose that which already beckons them.

State your crimes and clear your soul.

Not my words not my memory. But my crimes...too many to be named...forgive me...forgive me I did them to save our race from them, from him...from him.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
They carried the incense to the ritual...
They were servitors I see it now...
When they heeded the call of the voice, it was their servitors the snake-men their creations that stood with them at rituals.

What have I become?
I am a monster.
I am what I despise most. I cannot live this way endlessly...please let my power fade...just let me die.

Let me die...
let there be peace...I do not want to endure..
let me die...
let me die...


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
He means to befoul my soul.

I am damned. As I have damned so many, is it so hard to have known that this was my fate.

There, beneath my thumb, I was so blind and now daft as when I was a babe. My hair is still red, but with the last of my blood, which even now dries in my hands.

Will no one find me, help me?

Would they help me? I repent my sins as I recall them through this haze of memory not my own.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
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Silence. You are judged unworthy of the gift of undeath and by order of the Gelid shall be disposed. Your tampering with the Blood of the World will...

Weakening...I cannot keep my own thoughts for long, what was it my snake of an apprentice said?

One will prolong the process, but strip more of the power from within you...

The other will speed the process along twisting you into an existence of endless suffering. But your power shall persist, and I shall steal it. 


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
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The flesh on my hands grows tight, as the wrinkles fade, my mind clouded by voices of those that were here before me. 

Shrouded here in our misery, given over to the unseen voice so that though our lives are forfeit, our bodies continue on. So the blood sings so shall we endure.

Not me, not me. I do not want to die. Can you hear me? Can you hear my cries? 
Elysa...?
Celdiseth...?
Yal...?
Hamud...?
Asheron...?


author_Name: Translator
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Where it is applicable I have added notes in paranthesis to highlight words as we would speak them in everyday tongue.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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The Falatacot, studied the art of Geomancy with an unquenchable thirst. They called upon the resonance that echoed from within the world at the structures erected in the time before. They found that it was here, on Ireth Lassel, that mana was most concentrated, and plentiful.

Their priestesses, used their arts to fuse snakes and servitors into beings that would join them in blood rites, sacrificing unwary captives to the voices that echoed from the world. Their beloved Old Ones.
In the places where their shrines and temples were erected, they heard the voices.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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The voices granted them knowledge beyond the bounds of what any other of our race had ever known and they learned the full potential of the arcane. We use the shadow to our own effects when it suits us, but never to the level that the true masters of the arts could, and did.

Pulling the shadows in blankets, they hid themselves from the eyes of those that would persecute. They lived in the mire of the world and listened to the words that the voice called to them. Far to the west, beyond the scope of Ireth Lassel they erected their homes, secluded, removed and all together separate.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Scholars all, some to a fault. They watched from afar and in time fell further into the darkness. They uncovered arcane arts that even they would not enact, as the cost for such was too high. Blood was life, and without blood there was only death.

In time the great cold came and forced them from their homes. They wandered into the holds of their cousins, the Dericost and were tolerated as they shared their arts. 

Passing carefully hidden truths to the Dericost brought about change. Yet the Falatacot, held many arts secret and in darkness still.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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There in the darkness, they sequestered tomes of inordinate power and enacted rites of the most foul and bloody persuasion. Killing to them was another form of seeing that life continued and their rites increased the power of their preistesses to a point that none save, their darkest lord could comprehend.

Sects began forming within, small splinter factions that studied the aspects of the Blood of the World and called back to the voice that beckoned them. Others moved further into the shadow, heeding the dark call of the darkness made whole, flocking to the one who shall not be named.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Others studied the arts of creation and formation. Some studied arts of mechanism and toil. But all studied within the darkness and the reach of that voice. Then when their veil was pierced and their world came under the mighty foot of their oppressors, their tomes, and their arts fell dormant. Lost to time and given over to destruction and the call of entropy.

It was here that the construction of this book would have begun, and the very reason for this preface. They were a people that were brought together under harsh conditions, struggling to improve that which had been granted them, even whilst


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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they were the prey to an oppresive hunter/brother. 

They are gone, mostly forgotten. Yet there are things that they have left the world that have been found by others, in different ages. 

None know how long before they were absorbed into the ranks of their cousins that the Falatacot walked, and none may ever know. The knowledge is occulted in the deep recesses of the world. Perhaps never to be found. And though we are an old race of people. We are not eternal. 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Some have speculated that the only ones who would know the truths of the Falatacot were driven from this world long ago. They flew into seclusion or were hunted by the remnants of the Falatacot/Dericost in the time of the one that shall remain unnamed.

But there is another race that has lived as long as the Old Ones . But they are dormant now, speaking only when their prophecy might have meaning to those that will listen. Another voice, from beyond. Fed by the Blood of the World but not of the Blood of the World.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Now, there is something to be said for ages. For we live in the time of the great seaborne kingdom and though I have left that place, I am still of this age. But there is one that I have learned is not, of my age.

In a time when the Unnamed walked this world, and brought his army of the dark against Lord Atlan, he lived.

He lives still.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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The Gelid

Our race, and sects are an unforgiving lot, or so history would show those with a discerning eye. It is thus that the fate of the Gelid, having been only the grandchildren of the Old Dericost Lords fell under the oppression of the Haebrous and we Yalain.

I am a heretic for writing these words, but sequestered as I amwithin my own study I do not fear the reciprocity that would be due me. Rather I flaunt my hate of my own people who are so hypocritical, but I shall save that anger for later.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Nestled in the remains of their ancestors homes the Gelid studied their arts on the Plateau of Gelid.

The Haebrous discovered, and ancient ancestor of the Gelid living amongst them, hidden to their arts for some time, and evidence it seems, was created to support the theory that the Gelidites were somehow in league with this Lich.

The victors write history, and so one can only speculate what truly transpired. But what is known to me, through the practice of certain arts, and speaking with my minions from the Blood of the World, is 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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during this epoch the Yalain tortured the Gelid, while the Haebrous hunted them to near extinction.

It was in this time that a contingent of the Gelid fled Haebrous and came to Ireth Lassel.

They are departed now, nothing more than timeless corpses littering hallways and eternally burning rooms within a great library.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Introduction

I am sure now that you have struggled through the preface you question why I endeavour to entreat further information not pertaining to Elementals. But please bear with me and continue your read.

I am a man possessed of information that some have thought died with the passing of the Gelid. But in reading the salvagable writings that these beings left, I have discovered that they are but a branch of the Gelid, a minor sect that left to pursue the study of arts as ancient as their oldest ancestors, the Falatacot.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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The tomes that existed in their libraries spanned an eon of study. Time taken to think rethink, calculate and re-calculate the thoughts and studies of their ancestors. They believed that the Blood of the World, was nothing more than an energy, much akin to what we call mana.

When they returned to Ireth Lassel, after years of torture and persecution this sect left the whole of the Gelidites, after they enacted the rite that twisted them into undead, with Dericost magics.

This alteration, I believe would function as a most efficient punishment, changed them


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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into beings that could exist for all of time, without the fear of death. Thereby they allowed themselves the freedom to study their arts at their leisure and with as much depth as they could withstand. The main body of the Gelid had other plans however. 

Within a few hundred years of their arrival on Ireth Lassel, the main Gelid force apparently returned and set fire to their tomes, and destroyed all of the Disciples of the Blood of the World. There was little in the writings to suggest that there were factions but artifacts that I uncovered whilst in their construction led me to believe that this is the case.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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With the extinction of their kind, this information would have been lost to time. Never uncovered and looked on a fable of a hidden library...

I have discovered, in their writings that they were near a breakthrough. Further they had begun construction on something that would rival anything that Empyreans have ever succeeded at before. Perhaps even greater than the Forges of Aerlinthe.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Mana (The Blood of the World)

Beneath the crust of the world, exists a lifeblood, that flows from one focal point to another. Whatever came before, the Old Ones, the Gromnatross, placed a series of markers, that highlighted positions of  immense concentration. The Gelid studied these points, by ways that I cannot discern. (Several tomes are burned beyond repair and recognition.) 

They found that there were four poles, for lack of a more satisfying term that held more power than any other. There using their command of Geomantic arts they dug 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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into the earth and created, large stone structures. But the progress there was muted as they hit a point at which they were rebuffed by the Blood's own essence.

It was then they chose another approach. Utilizing their control of Geomancy again, they began crafting a new column that surrounded the focus of these Vein's. Here they constructed huge furnaces that were meant to collect the excess Blood (mana) from within the shell of the world.

Their works were completed but the devices were never set into motion. They lay dormant as of the writing of this book.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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I have visited each of these devices and felt the surge from within the world itself, and will attest that there is a palpable feeling of power within those places. But there is a problem with direct access to the cisterns.

Attempts to put myself into the vent, has often placed me at dangerous positions, and the collection of the Blood (mana) leads to a seepage that grows into tangible evidence of what the Gelid were trying to prove.

Gelid Theory of Blood

Their Falatacot ancestors believed that the power of the world flowed even through 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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their very veins. They would bloodlet, and sacrifice all in the name of their Old Gods, to draw themselves closer to the Blood of the World.

This practice was looked on by the Gelid, but because of the alteration that they made to their forms they were unable to harness the power of the blood any longer. Instead their scholars spent time "dreaming" new ways to access the Blood of the World.

It was in the writings of one philosopher, that the Blood of the Earth was made of intrinsic elements. Each one powering the different forms of magic that each being 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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could harness through teaching and craft.

The theory went on to explain the many forms of magic that the Falatacot once theorized existed. The Gelid philosopher set forth the idea, that there were four that stood tantamount above all others. 

This theory became the basis for the Disciples. One that they employed in everything that they would do.

Elementary Magic

The force of destruction, cleansing flame. The Gelid, believed that magma flowing


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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from within a mountain was nothing more than an aspect of the Blood of the World. The began studying and collecting evidence as such and toyed with the effects of Geomancy upon it.

They discovered nothing. 

Books go on to explain further theories, until one theorizes the possibility of a heretofor untapped source of magic. The tome crumbled to dust as I completed my translation so I believe that I am the last being that knows, and perhaps will ever know, the truth of how this was developed.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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If the the Blood of the World is represented in one aspect as a pool of liquid magma, why is it not possible for there to be more than one of these types of tangible representations.

This theory gave rise to the Disciples own unique magic, Refracted Mana, or as I have stated Elementary Magic, as it breaks the core of mana, into four equal parts.

Consumption - Fire
Stimulation - Lightning
Stasis - Frost
Decay/Entropy - Acid


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Consumption - Fire

Consumption was the first element that the Disciples worked their new magic upon. Using aspects of Demiurgy and Geomancy they plodded through the thought of how to give life to that which did not live.

Their efforts fused learned understanding of Demiurgy, creation of golems and such, with their understanding of Geomancy, the working of the world itself. In the end they had created a new magic, that used various aspects of these two learned schools, by way of telepathically awakening the slumbering shard of essence within the 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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concentrated pool of blood.

The first example is recounted here:

We have sequestered a small amount of magma, taken from the balefire near the Tenkarradum fault. When we reached into the syphoned aspect of the world's blood (mana) we were greeted with a question?

Who has awakened me?

Our response was swift and concise; we are your masters.

This recounting showed the first effective 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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use of all three former magical aspects. They were further refined over the decades and became as swift as calling forth a being to serve you by simply finding the an area attuned to the basic type you needed at a moment.

The process however was taxing.

Stimulation - Lightning

Stimulation was the second element that the Disciples attempted to harness. 

In their creation of Elemental servitors of flame the Disciples found that they drained


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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much of themselves in the process.

They believed that since fire was associated with destruction it was hampering the recovery of their contact with the Blood. Since they had theorized and come to believe that lightning was stimulus they employed the same tactics upon the lightning that they had the flame.

It worked:

As the air sparked to life, and I called it forth to do my bidding I was struck down as a charge coursed through my bones. Fortune smiled on me as I remained 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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predominantly intact and saw the form of an element composed of lightning kneeling before me. However, the process still left me drained.

The theory was disproven, and it was decided that the summoning and binding of elementals was always going to be an experience that would drain the summoner.

Stasis  and Decay - Frost and Acid

With their experience of summoning the fire and lightning elementals proving to be a drain upon them the Gelid Disciples chose to not summon the beings of frost 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Though there is no written text to support the theory, I have surmised that they feared that they would be locked into a stasis that would damn their undead forms forever.

Likewise, they refused to summon and bind beings of acid. Perhaps thinking that they would speed the process of decay.

Whatever their reasoning, they ceased further expansion into the realm of summoning, personally. Instead their focus toward a larger scale. The Cisterns.

Cistern
Descriptions of these devices are complete 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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to the smallest detail. They were true artisans these, Disciples, and though they were never able to achieve the end goal of their constructions they provided valuable blueprints for any that would follow in their path.

Each Cistern was created to be a form of battery for the creation of beings of pure mana given palpable form. As such each cistern was carved into the earth and reach near to the center of the world, or so they believed. In my estimation the chimneys could not possibly reach that far. But nevertheless they are some of the deepest structures that I have ever seen. In each of


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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these cisterns, quarters were developed for the overseer. Though they were never used they were stocked with magical devices that would grant the overseer protection from the harshness of being in such close proximity to the distilled Blood (mana). There was a minor cost, but it was a pittance when compared to what these overseers would command in terms of power.

The Cisterns, would need an imprint. 

I have gathered through what knowledge I have been able to garner in this place, and my understanding of Dericost magic that


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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an imprint is a mind, or memory  that would be responsible for controlling the beings summoned forth from the Blood. Alternately an imprint can be thrust onto or into an object to store individual or shared memories. Abstract in function, such rituals could truly serve a grand purpose. I will persue in a later treatise.

For the Disciples, the Overseers would be that imprint, those that controlled each aspect of the Blood of the World. The power that they would command would be akin to what the Old Man possesses.

And therein lies the rub.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Each of these Cisterns would be capable of creating an army of aspected beings that listen to the clarion call of one mind. Four minds that would control the embodiment of the Blood of the World.

Their society, from what I have ascertained was one that was based on unbelievable trust and companionship. There was an implicit belief that each was bound to the other in an unending circle of devotion that would keep them safe from outside interference and corruption.

Their destruction within their great library and the halls beyond are evidence to the 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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contrary.

Nevertheless, the four overseers never took their positions and the cisterns lay dormant for the countless years between then and now.

Application

I have taken my residence in each of these places, these Cisterns, and let the power of the Blood of the World flow through me. In the Temple of the Aspect of Flame I have encountered several of these beings of flame. They did not recognize me as anything other than a violator of the secret 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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pacts drawn long ago with their Disciple masters.

My first excursions into their holds were met with resistance and I balked at pressing them, and beginning a battle with them. I do not doubt that Heiromancy could be used to destroy the lesser beings, or even the greater beings, but I had an alternative method that I could attempt to use.

The Disciples had given me all the knowledge that was necessary to create and bind my own elementals to me, but I was unsure of the havoc that it would wreak upon my being. So I had treaded on the side 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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of caution until a time I saw fit to test their arts to see what would come of it.

I could not have been more impressed, surprised, or pleased by the results of my first and every subsequent meeting.

I have slowly but surely brought all of the beings of fire under my sway, and have begun entreating those of lightning as well. The process is taxing, but my living matter regains strength much faster than the Disciples, who in their undead state appear to have suffered a much greater drain.

In time I should be able to bring all of these 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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cisterns into functional use and thereby create an army of these beings that will heed my call and do my whim.

(Translator's note: Here there is a discrepancy of time, the writer goes on to explain events that seem to have happened a great many years in the future. There is a noticeable leap in logic that suggest that there are companion tomes to this one. The writer alluded to one such tome, in a previous passage when he mentions pursuing knowledge of "Imprinting" perhaps there is more to be found?)


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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The cisterns function very well. I have imprinted the orders from my mind into a powerful receptacle and begun the harvest of the pure force of mana from within the world. The teachings of the Disciples were adequate, but my further study have granted me a depth of understanding that they were never able to achieve.

I have even seen the fusion of aspects of the mana coalesce and join before my eyes. These beings are more intelligent, free-willed as well, but they are still well within the realm of my control.

At this point, my treading with the fire and 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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lightning aspects of the mana have proven most beneficial. They call me by name upon their summoning now and are beginning to show some indication of being linked to the Blood even though they are separated from it.

It has also become apparent, through a somewhat disconcerting mean, that more powerful beings from the mana are capable of bringing forth lesser beings of their aspect. Though they are less intelligible and powerful then their greaters, they are not bound to my will directly and this is a practice that I have taken to quashing amongst the few that I have seen do so.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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I have spent many years now within these cisterns, preparing for the revenge that is do my brother. I grow in power each day and though the frost and acid beings are slow to mature, I have seen progress.

My travels have also lead me to a new hold, one far greater than the cisterns themselves. 
Here I will be able to see the rise of my army, so that I may right what was done wrong.

He shall pay.


author_Name: Translator's Notes
author_Account: prewritten
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(Again there is a discrepancy of time, this seems to allude to the period just before what we have come to know as the flight of the Empyrean.)


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Pretentious fool. They come because of him. My brothers killers, they have begun pouring over our lands devouring all that comes in their way. 

I had just brought the embodiment of my armies into my citadel...and the Olthoi poured through the temple gates. Each of the cisterns is overrun, the rituals intact but the imprints have been destroyed shattered, and fallen.

My army fights now to see that they survive, and in those places where they are summoned still my other servitors will defend. But in time they will be destroyed.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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I must strike now, while the iron is hot, drive my hate into him and see him brought low to be justly accused of his transgression. His crime. His murder.

I am coming for you Old Man...

You shall be judged for D

(Translator's Note: It can be assumed that the author intended to complete his sentence, but there is nothing more to suggest he had the chance. The lack of bloodstains suggests that they simply stopped. There is a blot of ink that rests near where the next letter would have 


author_Name: Translator's Notes
author_Account: prewritten
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begun but there is no way to determine what the intended word was to to be. A proper name, perhaps a named crime. Regardless, the abrupt break suggests that the author simply stopped writing, was forced to stop writing or other foul befell them.)


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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The Blood of the World flows quickly beneath this land. Once, our ancestors in darkness, called upon the blood by a name. Now we, an order outside the sway of any other call directly to the blood, for the life that it is. It heeds our call like the tree obeys the wind, and coalesces into beings that command an aspect of the whole.

Now, we place to parchment, instructions to syphon these beings from the essence of the Blood of the World, and set them to our tasks, to our goals. Our desire is to punish those that took our people into slavery, and created crime upon crime to charge them.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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We shall not fail. For it is the blood of the righteous. Our truths shall purge the Yalaini from the world, and bring again the reign of the Gelid.

Words of Warning

There is a tenuous peace that exists with the disciples of the Blood of the World and the constructers of the Great Work. We are brethren tied by life, and essence, but we are enemies; thought a cult, whose meddling with the powers of Geomancy, will prove the undoing of all that there is.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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They have likened us to the reign of the one that cannot be named. Having listened to the whispers from the Blood itself, seeking to join with it, rather than prove its master.

Our ancient mothers, and fathers, sing from the blood, but their chorus is one that beckons only to fools. For we have seen the dark folly that befalls those that become thrall to the machination of the Blood. We are steeled against its call, and choose to harness it, not to obey.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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We will pull from the blood, the essence of its parts, and go to the Throne with bloody swords in hand, to rip the throat from the usurper, ending his reign of deceit and cruelty and freeing the memory of our kin.
We have found, what alliance with them can bring, and now we are no more that the dust, and bones, like our brother kin the Dericost.
Take heed, that we have translated these words and writings with the greatest of care, but even the scope of our great ancestors, the priestesses of darkness, cannot fully be known even to those who hear the Blood of the World sing.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Blood of the World
(Taken from a Falatacot Tome)

It sings;
can you not hear it,
in the brush, in the water,
in the seething boils of putrid earth flesh.

It calls,
beckons that we sing it's praise 
and call it forth to bubble o'er the earth
in heavy waves.

The Blood of the World, given form.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Blood of the World
(Disciple Translation)
Beneath the earth within the focal points established when our ancient mothers and fathers tread in the shadow, thrust from their homes, the voice of the Blood of the World called to them. There they erected pillars to signify the voice that they heard.

At these places hold an important key to the construction and support of the minions, that will bring the Yalaini low.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Our search for the remaining focal points has begun. Then the construction of the collection devices will begin.

(The following pages have been burned, making a translation of the complete text impossible. What little text remains is a difficult and enigmantic read.)


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Summoning

Binding

...to our cause

splintered the tree

tore through the fabric

difficulty

revolt


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
proclivity toward intelligent and rational thought, not the best quality in a subordinate race.

inescapable

twisted

Great Work

assault

driven back

black ritual


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
in death we will prevail

concealed

Sundering

Severed from the Blood of

transmutation of Geomancy into

these new beings

intelligent with a desire to serve

unique conditions in which a fusion


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
(Twenty pages are nothing more than charred nubs. The final page remains somewhat intact, but the ashes and charcoal that have been smeared across it over the millenia have left only one passage readable.)

without caution, and mastery, the result will ultimately be complete and utter destruction.


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dearest Lania,

Only a few days have passed since the vile creature slew Thorsten.  Everything has changed for me, maybe even more so than when I entered this strange land. I know Thorsten is gone, yet I feel at any moment I could turn and there he would stand, smiling at me, reaching for my hand.  At times I do turn around expecting him to be there, but only see a wall, a field, the sky. I only see the emptiness of my present world. Reality, as cruel and unforgiving as the eyes of that monster when she descended upon us.  She pierced my heart just as


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
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surely as she pierced the heart of my beloved. Thorsten's wound matters not to him today.  Mine feels as if it will never heal.

When we were girls back on Ispar, do you remember how we dreamt of love and a bright tomorrow with our respective future husbands whose visages we could but hazily imagine?  We sat on Farview Hill and looked towards that corner of Jasmina Valley between the setting sun and the northern sky where we envisioned twin castles- one for your family and one for mine. We talked of the estates we would create and thrive in with our loved ones.


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
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Here in this new land I found love, but it is lost to me now.  My future is empty.  I feel I can only look backwards to the memories of my time with Thorsten, a time all too short.  I cannot bear to bury Thorsten's armor or his axe with him. They were so much a part of him. When I look upon his armor I see him within it, though it stands empty.  I will keep them with me through the empty tomorrows.

Elysa


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
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Dearest Lania,

Today frost came upon the Aluvian land. Winter has arrived with snow blanketing the ground and swirling in the air. The trees this morningtide were all coated with ice, the branches encased as in glass.  The sun came out, brilliant against the blue sky and shone through the crystalline trees, its rays splintered by the myriad of icy facets. The glazed white ground and the blinding trees hurt the eyes. The air is cold, the world is cold.  But when I take a breath, the icy air drawn into my breast is chilled further by the frozen numbness that grips my heart.


author_Account: prewritten
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 I always believed fury to be a hot thing, boiling within like water in a kettle on a brazier.  Now I understand it may also be a cold thing.

Had I been quicker with the bow Thorsten might live today.  I rage against my faltering hand. When speed was most required, my hands and eyes were too slow. The thrust and parry of battle are desperate moments, the insects dark nightmares of speed and razor claws. Yet when I close my eyes I see the horror occurring with a languid slowness. I watch Thorsten fall but my arrow is not notched and my bowstring is slack.


author_Account: prewritten
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I could have saved him. I could have saved our future together. 

I could.  I did not.  

I live.  I rage.  I close my eyes against the winter glare and breathe deep.  The frozen air warms me.

Elysa


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dearest Lania,

Thorsten's tomb has been complete for some time now and work progresses at a fine pace on this town, which will bear his name. The other night I had a dream.  I believe it was a dream. I dreamt that I rose from bed in the darkness of early morning and journeyed to a bluff overlooking the lake.  I gazed down at the Isle of Tears. Mist lay draped about the isle in ragged sheets like a beggar's garb. From out of the mist strode Thorsten, walking in a slow, floating gait. Unhurried, as if he had all eternity to reach me. His usually strong features were


author_Account: prewritten
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hazy, not fully defined as the mist swirled about him, seemingly through him at moments.  I understood deep inside that I was seeing a shade of Thorsten, his ghost.  As he drew near I saw his eyes were locked on mine, and yet they focused beyond me as though searching for my soul that had been rended from the shell of my body.  As I reached for his hand he dissolved into mist. I implored him to return but there was only the swirling mist and pre-dawn silence.  I awoke wiping away tears.  I was standing by my bed, my feet muddied.  Had it only been a dream? I wonder when else


author_Account: prewritten
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I might see him. Thorsten's armor stands in the corner of my room, watching me with hollow eyes. Having seen Thorsten on the bluff, even if it was but a dream, I feel less of his presence within it and more within me.  It is comforting.

Elysa


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dearest Lania,

You have written to me in the past that you are wary of Asheron's motives.  I have not been able to convince you otherwise, but you should understand that I must trust him and have faith in his positive intentions.  I believe all Isparians should have this faith for there are sure to be struggles yet to come in which we will require his aid.

On another matter; I wrote you once that I could not bear to bury Thorsten's armor or axe with his body. Though I kept them with me,  it came upon me one day that I


author_Account: prewritten
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was being a mite selfish.  Thorsten did not belong to me alone.  He fought for all Isparians trapped in this land and his memory is not my property. 

Nor are his most important effects which symbolize his struggle and his fate.  Thus, Asheron has arranged for Thorsten's armor and axe to be secreted away at an ancient Empyrean site.  Let them be saved for a day whence they are needed as symbols of unity and a struggle our brethren should never forget.  Perhaps someday my son will be required to wear the armor and swing Thorsten's axe in defense of his family, his people.  I fear such a day but, alas, I must


author_Account: prewritten
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prepare for it.  Thus, the chamber that houses Thorsten's Tomb also contains a secret...  If it ever were necessary, just remember our girlhood dreams and you may find its direction.  Do not venture there however- what lies beyond is well guarded by watchful eyes. 

Fondly,

Elysa


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
prepare for it.  Thus, the chamber that houses Thorsten's Tomb also contains a secret...   If it ever were necessary, just remember our girlhood dreams and you may find its direction.  Do not venture there however- what lies beyond is well guarded by watchful eyes. 

Fondly,

Elysa


author_Name: Elysa Strathelar
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dearest Lania,

I know you mean the best, but your distrust of Asheron is a burden on me. He is a being of great power, this you know.  Asheron is able to wield forces beyond that which we knew on Ispar. You question- what good is power when its very use brings disaster and pain through unintended consequences?  He first brought the Olthoi scourge upon this world, then wielded great magic to help his brethren escape the scourge whilst trapping our people evermore in this land. He presented me the means to slay the Olthoi Queen and slay her I did. Yet, 


author_Account: prewritten
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through my fault or no, it resulted in the death of my beloved.  You say Asheron's hand wields great power yet, though his intentions seem positive, always and suspiciously, there seem to be unpurposed outcomes contrary to his purposes.

You last wrote me that you have been studying the Empyrean to formulate a supposition of evil intent. I know you believe Asheron's purposes are other than that declared, yet lately this appears to have become an obsession with you. I know not what I may say to convince you otherwise! Asheron used his art to secret away 


author_Account: prewritten
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Thorsten's armor and axe but this you do not believe. Tis' true that I could not be present when this feat was done, nor am I able to journey there myself.  But I have faith that this was accomplished, though I cannot prove it to you. 

You think to venture there and see for yourself if all is as Asheron promised it would be. For your sake and the sake of your little brother I beg of you to leave this matter of seeking proof be! There would be deadly forces to contend with, and I understand the Undead have also inhabited that place. Do not venture there! 


author_Name: Glysander Cartoth
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dear Brontynn,

I hereby give the bearer of this note permission to obtain from you any letters from Elysa Strathelar to my sister Lania that you may have in your possession. 

Glysander Cartoth


author_Name: Brontynn Marshad
author_Account: prewritten
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Sir Cartoth,

I left a letter I found for you in this chest. I am on the trail of another two letters, which I heard might be located north of Imuth Maer Doquin. I have heard reports of Tumeroks in that area. Though I am somewhat fearful, I am willing to take the risk and am headed there now.

Brontynn Marshad


author_Name: Glysander Cartoth
author_Account: prewritten
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Hello Traveller,

Years ago my older sister disappeared.  She had been a girlhood friend of Elysa Starthelar and corresponded with her quite often. I believe the letters Elysa wrote to her are a clue to her whereabouts. I would reward you if you could aid me in this matter. You may find me in the town of Cragstone and I will provide you with the details.

Sincerely,

Glysander Cartoth


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
He means to seal me within this place for eternity. How could I have been so blind. 

The Heat...the sting...the charge...the cold. All these things he has surrounded me with, but I have this one, chance.

There is a portal, here. I remember that, and a dias. A base, lectern something that infuses the key to passing the portal, and coming here.

So I shall begin the work upon a spell to weave the passage through for any that find these pages.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A lesson is learned as the pain begins to spread through me. Never trust...anyone other than yourself. He thinks that I will shrivel so quickly within this cell. 

I have found enough wood within this place to fashion a golem that will do my bidding, but I cannot find a way from this room, and with the passage of each hour it appears as though more of my power, and energy are taken from me. I will hold out for a while, of that I am sure. Yet these writings must taper into the spell that must be wrought.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
She collects the red hair, turning white, from her head. Twisting, tightening, tying frayed end to frayed end in tedious precision, strand by strand. The pain must be felt in order for the magic to take hold. 

Fortune smiled on her, in this her darkest hour. A dagger fit with the sluice to draw the blood from her vein to etch the sigils and infuse the page with magics beyond the scope of most understanding. Breathe controlled by temperance, as each strand is manipulated closer and tighter into the form of a makeshift brush.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Her hand cups to pool the blood. Her fingers twist the braided strands of hair fashioning a point to make the writing and etching precise.
The first touch of the stylus to the blood, is met with the exhale of breath. A single word spoken, in a language, that only a few understand. The brush grows saturated with the red, and is placed to the first parchment. 
A single line, etched, horizontal. A first diagonal, another word. Care must be taken to not use too much of the precious ink, the sigil must be crafted in one fluid motion, without leaving the page.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The vertical line begins, breath drawn in deep. Another diagonal, no sound can break her concentration it must remain on the construction of the lock. The horizontal along the bottom. Sweat rises on her brow, a numbness begins from the place where she has carved her flesh. Breath forced out as the last lines are drawn and the etching filled with the reagent, her blood.

To another page, to craft the protection that will allow transport. The stylus falls into the pool, still growing. Care must be taken to not spill the precious reagent lest the spell end. Breath is drawn as the stylus drinks.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The star must have the number of cardinal points, and the subsidiary points corresponding to the paths of true magic. Twelve points drawn from her blood, in concert with the timbre of her breathing.

A circle, surrounding the star to show the unity. Devotion to her people in the form of the man and the woman in the lower corner of this page.

Turn the page and with care wet the stylus. The numbness has turned to a throbbing pain, infusing the rite with dedication. The next sigil begins. A shadowgate, the old way. The passage between places.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Death closes in upon her, as she feels the life ebbing from the wound, magics hold the flowing blood in place within her hand. Weak, so weak. Three more etchings, must be completed. She steels her mind and continues the rythym of the rite. Breathing her life into the strokes of each sigil.

The bird, is next, deliverer. The page is turned, infused with the name of the herald of the morning. The sigil of the sun is drawn, and then the twin moons.

Then she draws herself, helpless and trapped. Darkness surrounds her, but the heavenly bodies shine upon her. 


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
One final word spoken, and the final breath released. The spell woven into the pages. The blood and pain are thrown onto the pile of lifeless wood, and her chants call to the life she has spread upon the fallen wood. 

The Book, handed as the commands are uttered silently from her mind to the malleable understanding of the being she commands. Her final act, to send it back to whence she was brought. To deliver her location to others, and then she passes into a quiet sleep.


author_Name: Arcanum
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
These are the creatures that were present at the raid on our stores:
Banderling Berserkers
Banderling Strikers
Brutish Monougas
Ferocious Monougas
Virulent Grievvers
Scrawed Grievvers
Drudge Stalkers, Raveners, and Lurkers
Lich Lords
Mosswart Fanatics, Idolaters, Soul Trappers, and Zealots.
If your men find any please see if they have trinkets from our stores.


author_Name: Arcanum
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Please allow this person to assist you in your task. They have demonstrated the kind of character that we are looking for in this endeavor.


author_Name: Numudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Through diligence and study I, and my many assistants, have been able to divine great magics that were heretofor inaccessible. We have redoubled our efforts as of late and established that we are reaching an understanding with the flow of mana here on Dereth. With this greater understanding we have succeeding in many new endeavors.

Housing, was the first of my major undertakings. The success in establishing the barriers around our homes was not a simple task and took me several years to complete. Then when complete I imparted that knowledge to many that will maintain


author_Name: Numudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
the upkeep and placement of the covenant stones before our homes. This world is ours, Isparians, and as such we should do our best to make it so.

The second was a reawakening of sorts. Pulling greater strength from within the heart of this land, calling the mana to flow in new directions so that we have greater access to power. We are a resilient race, capable of great undertakings, but we are still easily defeated by some foes. The protection of our mystreious benefactor, Asheron, cannot last forever, and who are we to be beholden to a thing such as he?


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I digress.

With the success of the second undertaking I was able to craft elxirs from various alchemical devices to enchant certain metals. However, the strength of the metal would hold a charge for some time and then dwindle. Save for Pyreal.

But like all things that exist there are differing grades, and potency even to the mystical metal pyreal. After more testing with these elixirs, I commissioned the many alchemists and artificers within the Arcanum to begin crafting both elixirs and gorgets from the metal.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It became apparent quickly that the varying grades of metal allowed for easier use of the imbued spells, but that the spells themselves were weakened by the metal. The charge of the magic however did not fade.

Once enough were created I set about the creation of a new spell. This is no easy undertaking. But after time and study I was able to piece together the spell and infuse the crafted neck pieces. The first few were successful and have been given  to the council members that assist the High Queen.


author_Name: Nuhmudira
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Since that time, other studies have consumed my efforts and I have taught Hiro the secrets of the spell. He shall take on the resposibility of infusing my gift to the Isparian peoples.

Nuhmudira 


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Nuhmudira's Boon

Nuhmudira struggled to create these objects. She has entrusted me to craft them for any and all that will be given them. The process will be known by myself and as I age, I will teach another that will take on the resposibilty when it is my time to pass.

Until that time the secret is mine to keep.

First, it should be known that the process is not a simple one. It taxes the connection with the flow of mana in a way that cannot be explained in simple words. So I shall say that I can create several over the course of 


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
a cycle of the moons, but no more than that of each type for each person that comes to me. I will need to rest after doing such.

Second, these items are a gift. Something that all Isparians will have the opportunity to create, provided that they show they are of the moral fiber to entreat with such a gift.

Third, these shall be created and used solely by those to whom they are given.


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There are three grades of pyreal that have been used. For ease of recognition we have made them into discernable colors: red, blue and green.

Each neckpiece will be infused with the power of Nuhmudira's spell. Each will also hold a spell of the School of the Left Hand and one of the School of the Heart. The power of each will depend on the grade of the ore.

Green: Third Circle Spells.
Blue: Fourth Circle Spells.
Red: Fifth Circle Spells.


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To create the object, I must be given the unimbued version of the neckpiece. I will then infuse the piece with the power of Nuhmudira's spell. After this it will be prepared for the addition of an elixir that is the concentrated form of a School of the Left Hand.

The item will then bestow an enhancement to the creaters physical or mental endowment, as well as fortifying them against the effects of harmful magics.

After this form has been crafted an elixir with the concentrated form of a spell from the School of the Heart can be added 


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
onto the neckpiece.

This will complete the boon and allow the wearer/creater protection from the attack form they chose to imbue the neckpiece with, as well as the previous enhancements.

Elixirs

The alchemists have created fourteen elixirs through toil and tears to enhance these items. Following is a list of these elixirs and their effects.


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Elixir of Might - Enhances Strength
Elixir of Vigor - Enhance Endurance
Elixir of Nimbleness - Enhances Coordination
Elixir of Speed - Enhances Quickness
Elixir of the Single Mind - Enhances Focus
Elixir of Perseverance - Enhances Self
Elixir of Spring - Provides rotection from Acid
Elixir of Summer - Provides protection from Fire
Elixir of Autumn - Provides protection from Lightning
Elixir of Winter - Provides protection from Cold


author_Name: Hiro
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Elixir of Misty Form - Provides protection from Bludgeoning devices and spells.
Elixir of Plasmic Being - Provides protection from Piercing devices and spells.
Elixir of Crystal Skin - Provides protection from Slashing devices and spells.
Elixir of Preservation - Provides protection from all physical assaults.

Our thanks, and mine go to Nuhmudira for what she has learned and imparted to us all within the Arcanum.


author_Name: Telk the Addlepated
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Telk the Addlepated wishes to thank thee for purchasing this Book of Instruction on Crafting the Horn of Vigilance.  The Horn should provide years of care-free service in repelling a variety of creatures. A mere four items are required for the material with which to craft the Horn. The four items required are:


author_Name: Telk the Addlepated
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A large Niffis Shell

The Femur Bone of a Lich Lord

A Tibia from a Virulent Grievver 

A Tusk from a Tusker Slave


author_Name: Telk the Addlepated
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The large Niffis Shell must be carved to create the Base for the Horn.  Utilize a carving knife that may or may not have been provided to thee. The other three items must be carved to create three Upper Pipes.  Then mount each of the three Upper Pipes atop the Base Horn. Thus, the Horn is complete. It is just that effortless!

Telk the Addlepated must alert thee to the fact that thy results with this instrument may vary.  Telk the Addlepated cannot be held responsible for loss of life, personal items or treasure should


author_Name: Telk the Addlepated
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
the Horn be used in a manner not suited to the use for which it is claimed to theoretically be utilized for, nor if thy Horn is used on nights when the moons are visible, days when the sun appears in the sky and during seasons of the year that are wet or dry.  Care must be taken in obtaining the items necessary for the construction of the Horn for some creatures do not easily give up body parts required for this instrument. Always carry a weapon and stay alert in the presence of Olthoi and other vermin.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Isparian Arms

Nuhmudira began work on these items nearly a year ago. She explained the basics of the transmutation of pyreal and its innate magical properties to a small class of  three individuals. Two of them left the Arcanum after hearing the rumors of what she had done to those people in her basement, leaving me as the last remaining member of the Arcanum's Alchemical branch.

I have been working in conjunction with the artificers and the tinkers to decipher many other problem and so I apologize that


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
this manuscript is written with an air of haste.

Pyreal

We began the collection of quality and high qulaity pyreal ingots in the months before and the months after the establishment of the first housing settlements. This is when our study began.

The first few attempts were utter failures, entire modules of pyreal were ruined beyond salvation. There was nothing that would consistently strength the bonds that the metal already had.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
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Our first efforts involved the use of Olthoi Ichor and later Grievver Ichor. Neither did anything more than reduce the ingot to slag.

Later with the discovery of diamond powder we began trying to find a way to coat the ingot in the powder.

Many elixirs were brewed in an attempt to imbue certain enhancing qualites onto the ingots, but nothing worked. 

Our artificers spent their time working on new spells to attempt to strengthen the metal and eventually, I am told, Nuhmudira


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
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succeeded at devising a spell that would do just that and hold our elixirs. Hiro, can explain that in more detail than I.

But the spell could only be used on fabricated pyreal, that which had already been molded. The raw form, ingots, were resistant to the spell and so we were left trying to devise a way to embed spells into the pyreal in other ways.

Nothin was working.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Purpose

The purpose was clear from the first day for the four of us that worked with the ingots. We needed to devise a way that we could make a weapon that would be much better at slaying our foes. Nuhmudira was the first to establish who that foe was, the Empyrean. 

We, the Arcanum, sat in long deliberation of what our intentions truly were and though we knew that we were making efforts to ensure that our people would have homes, defenses and ways to assist one another.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
By the end of a two week deliberation, during which Nuhmudira argued her point so well, that nearly all of the Arcanum agreed that the greatest threat to us on Dereth was indeed the Empyrean, it was decided that we would branch into several different arms.

As such we established the following:
Agents
Alchemists
Artificers
Librarians
Researchers
Spellcrafters


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
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And Tinkerers.

There may well be more as we grew quickly, even though we were removed and separate from the whole of the Isparian peoples.

We, the Alchemists, were set to the task of manipulating the various components and metals of the world in an effort to discover an alloy that could be used to strengthen our weapons to a point where they would be nearly unbreakable and immensely powerful.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
When Nuhmudira succeeding in loosing so much of the power that had been locked away into the metals we though that she had succeeded at what she wanted.

We were very wrong. Our struggle had just begun, and we toiled long and hard with no success.

My recent efforts have been subject to the scrutiny of my peers and the people of Dereth as they reel from the news that Nuhmudira had done something less than noble, in fact despicable by mosts standards. We, the Arcanum, are fractured 


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
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over this news.

When my two direct peers left, I was alone in trying to create these new weapons. While I had seen some success in the crafting of the various elixirs, that entire process had been taken from me and given over to Hiro and the remainder of the Artificers, long ago.

Now I was one lone person trying to calculate a new formula with an alien metal forged on this world. 

Frustrating.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Resolution

I had all but given up, when I was visited by a tall man that entered into the building without a single sound. He loomed over me as I sat at my workbench and placed a long finger to the left of one of the many pages that were scattered on my workbench.
I remember exactly what he said.

"The metal uses the magic, child, you cannot make new magic that will tame it without first visiting the source of it's power."


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I glanced up and saw his long white beard and amber eyes, Lord Asheron Realadain.

If he knew the purpose of these weapons I was sure that he would have killed me, but instead he went on to explain a great many things to me.  

Our discussion took us long into the next evening from early in the night before. By the end of that time I had lost all fear of this gentle, gentle man.

What he has done for me, has opened the doorway to the forging of these weapons.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
He has made efforts to explain what we could not fathom and I have learned from him.

I put to page, in the following leafs, the steps that you will need to create these new weapons and explain the enhancements that will be made to these weapons from what once were the steps for creating the atlan weapons.

Ciandra


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Diamond Oil

From the mana stream that Asheron will open to us we will collect pure mana. To that we will add Diamond Powder and depending on how well we brew the mixture we shall achieve one of two qualities.  Asheron has assured me that the gradient will be visible.

Oil of Nullification

This oil is necessary for the creation of the tool that will be used to remove stones from the weapons.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To craft it we will need powdered chorizite and the mana from the place that Asheron opens. The oil will then be prepared.

Ingots

Only High Quality Ingots can be used, the other grades are not potent enough to absorb the diamond oil.

Using the Oil on the Ingot will reinforce the metal. Depending on how potent the brew and the care you take while infusing the ingot you should receive one of four gradients of Diamond Infused Pyreal Ingots.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Weapon Infusion

Once you have created any quality of Diamond Infused Ingots, you need to purchase an infusion tool that will transfer your skill to the ingot itself.

We have supplied Silencia with these stamps, as she also has the Golem that will forge the ingots into weapons.

As you may have assumed you will then give the item to the golem who will forge the weapon within its heart fire.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
You should obtain one of four qualities for weapons as well.

Elemental Stones

Like their predecessors, the Atlans, our Isparian weapons can be fitted with one of the four elemental stones. Asheron assured us that the Shadow stone would not work. These will enhance you and also cripple you in some ways, but the weapons have been designed to assist us with the growing Elemental problem. Such that they will be much more potent against certain elementals, typically the opposing element.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This is a process that Nuhmudira was searching for, but Lord Asheron was kind enough to show us.

Modifying Tool

In order to remove a stone from within the weapon you will need a special tool that uses the previously mentioned Oil of Nullification.

You will need to use the oil on a pure Diamond Heart, this will be only substance strong enough to unbind the stone from the Isparian Weapons.


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Once the heart has been imbued with the oil find one who can carve keys and ask them to craft the altered Diamond Heart for you. The result should be a tool that will fit perfectly into the weapon to remove any of the elemental stones.

Notes:
Though potent, these weapons cannot be enchanted, but they will course with the energy of the weapons type at the higher qualities.

Further the addition of the elemental stones will not only increase their efficiency 


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
against their opposing elemental type, they will also increase and modify the weapon into elemental types, for the major stones. Both major and minor stones should alter the weapon so that they are imbued with some manner of spell, though the major may shed some negative spell upon you it will also increase other areas and offer the enhanced damage against certain elementals.


author_Name: Asheron
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have for too long now, sat removed from you, turning a blind eye to the horrors that you have been subjected to so recently. 

Candeth Martine, has on at least one occasion tried to take my life, and has threatened the life of your High Queen's son. Now it appears that the monster means to awaken arts that have long been buried beneath the world in the forms of elemental magics.

There are reasons that those practices were halted and I shall espouse some of what I know on the subject here.


author_Name: Asheron
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Magic is. There is no way around that, and here on Ireth Lassel, Dereth, to you and the other Isparians, the fields of magic and lines that run beneath Auberean are strongest. 

It is here that we set up our grandest research facilities and established societies specifically for the furthering of magical arts. We were a race with little in the way of enemies, filled with a boundless curiosity. It was that curiousity that was our undoing. But we stopped several times before when we discerned a pattern, or rather a break in the pattern of what is.


author_Name: Asheron
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Essence, is the term which I have come to use to describe what you call mana. It flows through every being regardless of whether they choose to harness it or not. Beneath the world it flows, and ebbs like the tides of the ocean, but instead of being on a set schedule, it moves through set patterns.

At the points where these pools have coalesced into tangible reality, what you call the Essence of Strife, Artifice etc... they have been pooled in what appears to be giant cisterns, whose sole purpose is the collection of the essence that flows beneath the world.


author_Name: Asheron
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have not spent much time in studying them. During the height of our age, my attentions were elsewhere, and their resurgence at the defeat of Bael'zharon made them appear as though they were something that my people had inadvertently stifled when we first trapped the Hopeslayer. So it was nothing more than a boon for you and yours when the magic of the world surged with power.

But now, I wonder.

I have watched these placed and see something odd.


author_Name: Asheron
author_Account: prewritten
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The workmanship is reminiscent of the Gelid Age. When those that once lived on the Gelid Plain struggled and toiled to reestablish their hold on the world against the Yalain and our allies. Their effort, you have seen before in the great work at Frore. A device established to syphon, the power of something else...

I shall not go into a history lesson there. 

Essence is as magic is. It is an all encompassing force that can be broken


author_Name: Asheron
author_Account: prewritten
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into to structured categories that are described by the various schools that you possess. To you and the other Isparians, there are four schools.

To Nuhmudira, and a few others who have attempted to decipher the arts that the Yalain once practiced there are several more. Though the effects that you can evoke differ greatly from what I can do. 

It is not a slight to you Isparians, it simply is. In time as it has been shown by Nuhmudira, perhaps you could learn the greater aspects of magic, but I do not know. 


author_Name: Asheron
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Thus far it is only Nuhmudira and the altered human, Candeth Martine that have grasped the higher concepts of magic, and put them into use.

Further, essence is the whole. The completeness of magic and the understandings and working that it becomes. 

Borelean, Ely's son, has asked me on occasion where the elementals came from. I must confess that I took the liberty of telling him a falsity.


author_Name: Asheron
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Elementals are an aspect of essence, coalesced, given form and given consciousness by a master. This practice took place within a very small sect of beings eons ago. Those beings were destroyed utterly, by their kin. The Gelid.

The ones that roamed Ireth Lassel for the past centuries, are remnants of those that were created by this cult, that was destroyed. They have no masters, besides themselves and it appears that they have the ability to create more.

This is not so frightening a thought, until


author_Name: Asheron
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you take into account the process by which it appears that they were made.

Essence was collected. Stolen in massive quantities from beneath the Menhir Rings, and forcibly bent into willing forms , imprinted with a connection to the summoner/binders mind. The essence took on an aspect of the element that it was most closely akin to. So that if the wellspring of essence came from near Mount Esper it was flame...etc...meaning that it took on it's basest form. But the siphoning of this power left the magic field weak and devoured the magic from the land.


author_Name: Asheron
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The power instead was redirected into the masters of the "elemental", and the elemental itself. 

Over time it was thought that the elementals would siphon the conduits of essence under the world dry, leaving no room for magic other than its most base  forms upon the world. Meaning that those that practiced magic would become powerless, and the elementals would grow in power to a point where they could replicate themselves at an alarming rate. Perhaps even fusing together into types that could not be destroyed.


author_Name: Asheron
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Fortunately, the Gelid quelled this renegade faction. 

A simple problem however remained. There were some elementals that were already imprinted with the connection to their masters, and when their masters died, these elementals were left with powerful shards of thought from their former masters. This made them able to create more of their ilk to sustain their line, so to speak, over the ages.

Now, in the current age, your age. It has become apparent that Martine means to 


author_Name: Asheron
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awaken this long dead practice. He is unawares of the damage that he could possibly wreak. Or he consciously wishes to see this world destroyed.

I will not see that happen, not because this is my world, because I will not see any more needless suffering here. To that end I have approached the Arcanum and have been assisting your High Queen with endeavours to bolster the Isparians.

My first such contact with the Arcanum yielded an unexpected find that I have dispatched my emissary to assist them with.


author_Name: Asheron
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As hypocrtical as this may sound, I am opening a way to a font of essence. There you will collect pure mana so that you may forge new weapons from pyreal to better combat the enemies that will rise to face you. Use it wisely.

I have dispatched diggers to a place near the Sho village Sawato. There they will construct a place of safe passage to the essence font. You can then collect the essence and return to your Arcanum for furhter assistance. I have taught them all I know.


author_Name: Slithe Tradittor
author_Account: prewritten
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It was in the desert that I saw it. Due North of the Midsong Festival Stone. Due south of the Recovered Temple Dungeon. Southwest of Al-Jalima.  I had climbed a steep escarpment and walked along the edge of the cliff.  I saw the glow of a portal and as I drew near I saw the hanging bridge suspended out into nothingness. I do not know where in Dereth the portal placed me. Go ever upward! The artifact is at the highest point. Remember to use the Imaging Crystal on the artifact.


author_Name: Aluvian Rumor
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A friend of mine came across a man in a small cottage northwest of the West Lytelthorpe Outpost. He said his name is Slithe Tradittor and claims to be an Explorer for the Explorer Society. He expounded upon a tale of discovering an unusual locale which harbors a strange device. This device is apparently an artifact of Empyrean technology. This Explorer hungers to obtain this device and study it.


author_Name: Slithe Tradittor
author_Account: prewritten
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To construct the Arcane Pedestal it appears these other parts are required:

A Bronze Gear from a bronze Reedshark Statue
A Bronze Coil from a bronze Sclavus Statue
A Bronze Spring from a bronze Skeleton Statue


author_Name: Gaerlan
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My brother and I have just returned from Aerlinthe. He was there to see that the portals were showing no odd signs of decay, or alteration. Of course I had my own reasons for being there. 

I have kept that temple, a secret for so many years now. Still, however, my command of the planar magic is weak compared to Delacim's. Often times my efforts will fail wholeheartedly, merely shifting the location of the portal. Asheron reprimands me often for such transgressions. For someone in his position I think that  he becomes a little too free with his scolding.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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No matter really, a simple reference to my badge of office and he silences. It angers me that due to his reticence in spending time with me, to foster my strength and understanding, I still fail. I could have much easier access to that temple.

In time, in time I shall have the ability and then I shall move from my brothers shadow. So long I have stood here, Delacim...you who were born with an affinity so great. 

The old man treats him as though he were a son. A son, that is still a student. Amusing.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Odd that the others that are Asheron's students never question his age, or his position or how he came by such great knowledge. These things do not simply just occur.

There have been times that I have thought about visiting the Nali, myself. Yet, each of those thoughts is checked by the fact that if the Nali was to come here I would also be brought under harsh scrutiny. Though I have worked long and hard to shield my thoughts, I know that they have the implements necessary to extract the information that they desire. I have no


author_Name: Gaerlan
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intention of dying before I complete my work.

The Emperor will be the first to see my work. To be heralded into the temple and shown how immense the inside of the structure is. To bear witness to my learning.

Recent events have afforded me a bit of freedom from the Lyceum at Knorr. Though this disconcerts me. During my absence Asheron will be free to operate without supervision. However, when the Emperor invites you to spend time at his personal retreat you thank him and accept.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Such an extension shows that I have already garnered much worth in his eyes. Enough that when I bring him to the temple he will surely find it within his breadth to name me a court vizier, perhaps more.

Nothing could have pleased me more than what I bore witness to today. Minions of darkness making war upon one another. The battle was long over when I arrived, perhaps by thousands of years. But the Dericost magics that preserve the consciousness within undead forms halts the decay of the body at a certain point. This is, at least, my understanding.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Within a secluded area of the wilderness I found an underground establishment. Making sure that I was not followed I entered the place and found a comfortable sitting room. There great minds may have  sat and discussed matters of grand importance. I found a calm there. 

I also found the stench of death. The hallmark of the Dericost. And it was cold there. Very cold.

Venturing further I found the first of the corpses. Bloodless husks of  the undead, littered the floors of a tunnel structure.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Making my way through a set of doors I found hallways that joined to two other sitting rooms lined with ancient tomes. Evidence of a grand battle littered the floor in the form of more corpses. Tables and chairs were overturned. Books were torn and sundered, pages laid scattered and strewn across the chill stone floor. 

But for all the destruction, and the devastation a majority of the books remained whole. At first I could not fathom what transpired within these walls. Little evidence suggest more than a raid upon the unsuspecting inhabitants. Perhaps an 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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excercise undertaken by the Nali, and the Emperor. Further study showed no sign of recent activity. Thick dust weighed heavy on the silent corpses. No activity had taken place at that place in months, perhaps years.

I spent the better part of the day reviewing old tomes and translating the texts. After some considerable time I had deciphered the title of several tomes. One, I chose as my own. I had meant to set out to my temporary homestead but, was instead invited into a deeper mystery.

As I made my way to one shelf of tomes 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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to begins translations of the titles I was met by a breeze. Air funneled in through a small break in the bookcase. There was a room beyond. 

I pried the shelves from the wall and threw them down to discover a hidden passage. A wall of illusory magic had been etched permanently in this spot. These magics are commonplace, but effective.

Curiosity got the better of me and I descended into the unknown. As I entered a large cavern I found carvings and other pieces of art that suggested the Dericost


author_Name: Gaerlan
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culture. Chill passages twisted deeper into the earth, until I reached a site of a cave-in. Debris blocked normal passage leaving only a small crawlspace.  

Through the crawlspace I could see a golden hued stonework. Testing the structure for integrity I pulled myself though. I was met with the most disconcerting and frustrating place that I have ever entered in my life. 

Passages twisted in upon themselves, all looking remarkable the same. The only 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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unique aspects to each were the position of  corpses. Perhaps those that were once its defenders. It was a maze, a maze of madness and death. Still there was more to discover. 

At one dead end I found a Golem and a gem that rested on top of a dais. Commanding the Golem to explain its orders yielded nothing and I was forced to strip its thoughts by magical means. Tearing through the layers of its memory I was able to find that it had been programmed to allow access into a unique prison. That prison was within the crystal atop the dais.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Regarding this as a breakthrough of sorts I attempted further scrying of the crystal. I found beings, perhaps not beings, perhaps memories...something...trapped within. All imprisoned there. Trapped it would seem, forever. A particularly cruel and effective prison.

I then focused my efforts back upon the Golem and was able to learn that the beings imprisoned within were there because of affronts they had made to the people that once lived here. A splinter of an ancient enemy, the Gelid. Destroyed by infighting and their own people.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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This gave me pause, for it was entirely possible, no likely, that there were more out there. Yet another transgression of my own against the church, to know that these things exist and to keep them secret. But such is the nature of greatness. I would however, not make the same mistake that Asheron made. None will know of what I have found.

I have remained here on Ireth Lassel for nearly one cycle. In this time I have learned so much. I have found a link between the temple and the library beneath the land here.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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As well I have found four great cisterns beneath the Menhir. These too are linked.
A link between them all, connected to this splinter sect of undead. 

Their research was a thing of amazement. Asheron himself knows nothing of these things of that I am sure. I have been fortunate that this information is mine and mine alone. Yet now I have been asked to return to Knorr  and I must abandon my research here. Another world has been found and Asheron has been ordered to visit it, the Emperor wishes me to accompany him.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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So it shall be.

Asheron has not changed. He is ever the fool, doting over my brother as if he was the blood of his blood. Soon...just  a little more time and I shall be able to grant the Emperor what he wishes, on my own. Then the old man will be put to the torch by the Nali. I shall dance on his corpse. The corpse of this fossil, from a bygone age.

Delacim, conversly is changed. His youth and mischief have left him. I should not have stayed away so long. He has become too sure of himself. 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Many years have passed since our youth. When we went to Aerlinthe that first time we were equals. He built the portal structure, while I visited the foundries and made my discovery. Now, he surpasses me in every way. 

Not for much longer my brother. Soon I shall expose to you what your master is, and you shall see that it is I who is wisest. 

Asheron met with us. His methods have not changed. A navigational beacon shall be carried by Delacim. In the event of something going wrong it shall fall to him


author_Name: Gaerlan
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to activate the portal home. We shall have precious time to return as always. The same speech again and again. How his adepts do not go mad I cannot fathom. He dodders.

He had wished to keep me from the private meeting that he held with Delacim, the fool. I am the reach of the Emperor within these halls, how dare he stand against that! Even a simple reminder nearly failed to change his ways, he grows impertinent.

It seems that the Emperor has made it clear to Asheron that the focus of our forays onto other worlds has changed somewhat. This


author_Name: Gaerlan
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was already known to me. Hardly worth notice as far as I am concerned. I have intention of giving the Emperor an army of his own that is obedient, malleable, and devastating. Until I am prepared however, I must continue to keep my efforts quiet.

I did chance pressing the question of elementals with Asheron. We have on occasion seen these phenomena wandering near Aerlinthe and other sections of the world. But they are meager creatures, easily dispatched. Nothing like those theorized within the book that I have found. 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Asheron eschewed the question and focused back on our visit offworld.

We have arrived on a dark, sinister world. The sun is a mottled yellow color that suffers in the sky, bleeding heavy rings of wet air upon everything beneath it. There are bodies beneath the soil, with hands reaching toward the dying sun. Asheron has yet to act squeamish but I can see at the edges of his mouth that he is concerned. 

One of our number has fallen ill, and as the night tumbled upon us in the form of a sick, pale moon, he began coughing up a black


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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ichor. The boy is dying. Earlier today he  ventured too close to one of the prolific fungi covering the fetid landscape. The thing issued a sporule cloud into the air and the boy was caught within the blast.

His breath has grown more labored as the night has progressed. The liquid from his lungs has become as dark as the virulent sky. His rasping has kept me awake for hours. 

As the moon peaked the boy fell asleep. By morning when we woke, he was dead. Consumed by the fungi. It grew from 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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within his lungs. 

Asheron asked for the gem. I quickly reminded him why we were here. The old fool dared to question me openly. In the end he had no choice but to submit to my authority. Even my brother took his side briefly, thinking that it was best to return. The boy is dead. It is a horror but one we shall face when we have collected the information that the Emperor seeks. We will now press on.

The Emperor begs us find some semblance of intelligent life here, so we shall.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Days have passed since it happened but the incident is still fresh within my mind. Burned there. Etched. Seared forever in my memory. A stain, a blotch on my thoughts, on my very soul.

Asheron and his betrayal, his command, his folly. My brother's death, his blood, coats Asheron's hands. It marks him.

I have reasoned enough to pen the event so that if my hatred should wane I will not forget. So I shall not rest until my brother is revenged. Until I bring about the old man's destruction.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Our expedition progressed. A makeshift gurney was crafted to carry the dead adept, and we pressed further.

A scent of rotting meat permeated the thick air. A stream of sporules drifted lazily along zephyrs of air lazily passing beneath the bloated sun. Its light cast a sick ashen hue on everything it touched. The ground was teeming with life, at least bugs and fungi.

We encountered a four foot long insect with hundred of legs, and pincers at its tail as large and sharp as carving tools. Spores clung to everything, and where


author_Name: Gaerlan
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moisture gathered fungi grew at an alarming rate, and to even more alarming heights.

Mushrooms twice as tall as our armored guardians cluttered the landscape. Along their sides a rainbow of sporules collected and sprouted tumor-like appendages. Misshapen knobs of wet and pungent growths. As a precaution we all wrapped our mouths with cloth to keep the airborne sporules from entering our lungs, and causing the same death that had befallen the adept. But I should have liked to have shielded my eyes on this world. A mass of 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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horror and disease. Vile rivers of steaming, stinking, water gurgled along, half-choked by fungal growth. 

The sun did not move along the sky as quickly as the moon. Instead it heaved itself laboriously along. By what felt like midday I was prepared to return. But then came our discovery.

It started as a trill, a gentle sound like the singing of the birds on a clear morning. It was wholly foreign and welcome in this place of death and decay. We made our way closer to the sound.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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Asheron reinforced our shielding wards. It is a method by which the visual receptors of lesser races are tricked into seeing light bent a different way. A simple trick really, but one that once perfected can be used to mask vast areas of land, structures and even people invisible. In his extended years it is obvious that he has come close to complete mastery. Oh my dear brother, why did we think this. He failed us Delacim, failed you.

We made our way toward the chirping and found a creature with folded wings, accentuated legs, segmented body and faceted eyes. Its grey-green carapace pulled 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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the light around itself to blend in with the cap of the fungus it rested upon. Akin to a cricket, a simple insect, the thing was much larger of course, yet acted in the same ways. 

Its hind legs, long, brittle and spindly folded over one another. They were coarse and as the thing rubbed them together a trill sounded. Antennae sprouted from the crest of its head, twice as long as its body. 

On the front of its head mandibles opened and closed with several arm-like structures collecting spores from the air, moving 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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them into a jagged mouth. Its wings fluttered open every once and again stirring the sporules. Its faceted eyes rested on either side of the mouth, ever vigilant of the putrid landscape.

Ahead of us, there was stirring. As a large bipedal insect struggled to wrest a section of stalk from one of the overgrown fungi. Delacim, oh my poor brother, asked Asheron if he might touch the beast. I made my way toward the cricket thing.

As I crept closer its hind legs began scraping together furiously. A high-pitched


author_Name: Gaerlan
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wail burst forth. I heard Asheron scream. I heard Delacim scream, and as I turned I saw the bipedal thing in all its fury.

A midnight-purple carapace as tall as myself, with red glowing faceted eyes. A carnival of whirling segmented arms, razor sharp as any blade. Four in total, two jutting straight from its back, two more sprouting from its midsection. Bloated, bleating in an incomprehensible whine, in unison with the thing I was near. Asheron's arms were out I could make out the movement of his lips. His spell had been broken, and he was busy trying to 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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break through to the things mind to make it peaceful. All this in the space of an instant.

Then, horror. Its massive dorsal talons  plunged straight into my brother's chest and midsection. It sliced through him and into the ground, red-grey mist swirling. He gurgled, spraying himself with his own blood, a shock of red in an ocean of death. The shorter talons ripped at his stomach, spilling  his life onto that dead world.

Asheron...squealing like a child, crying, reached into my brothers robes as the thing struggled to pull its limbs free of my 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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brothers body.

He called to the Light, asking for preservation, using the magic within the beacon stone to create our way home.

Delacim's corpse was still falling as Asheron pulled me through the portal. We still carried the dead adept, but my brother was gone.

Once through Asheron warded the gate, and sealed the way to their world forever.

I will never forgive the old man...never.


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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The Emperor has read my reports. Today I was informed that he wished to see me, inquiring about my brother's death and how I am handling the loss. I have been within the capital for a week now, the adepts body has been examined by our most potent minds outside of Asheron.

I shall make my appearance, but stay true to my original goal. Delacim will be avenged. I will give the Emperor what he wishes, and I will end Asheron's existence. But I must be careful, some adepts, have begun careful whispers to Asheron that it was I that alerted that thing. The cricket and that is


author_Name: Gaerlan
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what caused the other beast to attack. Suspicion must first be removed from me.

My meeting with the Emperor went well. He is comfortable with my plans and has insisted that I take Asheron with me to that horrid world again. No matter, this will give me the opportunity that I need. I will entrap the old man there. He will perish and be left on the same world as my brother. 

The world is as I remembered. One full cycle of our moons has gone by. The world here seems the same. We have a larger contingent, comprised of the Emperor's 


author_Name: Gaerlan
author_Account: prewritten
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own guard and three adepts from Asheron's Lyceum at Knorr. I carry a device that will lead me home, and I have studied Delacim's notes on planar magic and collapsing portals. Time is my benefactor now. A little more time, and I will have my revenge.

Our travel has been marked by an increased hostility by the world. Maw's have begun appearing in the earth. Massive cavities that reak of must, and other foul humors mar the landscape. Each is equidistant from the other, and within we can hear the familiar chirps of the thing that killed


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Delacim.

Asheron, is on edge, I do not think that he suspects my treachery, but he is afraid of this place. I am reminded of the discussion that the Emperor held with him in regards to these beasts and the purpose of our expedition here. He decried that these, Olthoi, a name he chose, shrug off our mental arts as though they did not exist. He explained that the mind that he encountered while trying to pacify the first we encountered was truly hundreds of thousands of minds crying out as one. Crying out that there was an invader.


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The Emperor listened. Yet he had been set to course by one of my reports. These things would be a force the likes of which had never been seen. We could rule any with these creatures at our command. Asheron's argument failed and he was here now. 

We have stopped near an outer ring of one of the cavities. This night has arrived with the sound of scurrying over the land. A different sound then we had yet heard.

It is done.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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I must be sure to retain every detail. Every minor scent, emotion and progression that occurred. You are avenged my brother, avenged.

We awoke sooner than the we had expected. Night, still shrouded the world in a welcome darkness. Along the land, the air turned more chill, the humidity of the day gave way to a brisk clear breeze. Around us, the world was lit with thousands of glowing eyes. 

The ground was rumbling, and a chorus of chittering rose from within the depths of


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the cavity near where we had camped. Our guardians, hurriedly readied their weapons and locked their shields together, forming a tight circle about us as Asheron created a magical dome to ward off physical blows.

A thin line of red crested the horizon as the dying sun began its ascent. A new sound joined the chorus of chirps and chitters. Wing beats...

Eight foot long insects ascended from the gaping maw in the earth, their bodies the color of the night sky, blending perfectly with the heavens until the red dawn


author_Name: Gaerlan
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splashed over them. Then we could see them for the monstrosities that they truly were. 

Hundreds of tiny mandibles open and closed on the underside of the things. Three pairs of legs hung limp as they hovered in place. They had no visible eyes. As they dipped low toward our position we could see that four mouths graced their underside, two on the first segment, and one in each of the other two. Each mouth was flanked by what appeared to be stingers, one on either side dripping a viscous ichor. Each segment from the front


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to back grew thinner and more streamlined. One approached our position and afforded us a closer look.

At its head, set slightly within the first segment, a pair of small pincers could be seen, and between those rested a set of blue faceted eyes. It crept lower to our position and extended the stalks on which its eyes rested to examine the area about us. It saw nothing, at least we hoped, as it returned to the swarm. With a sigh of relief we turned our attention back to the horde upon the ground.


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The chittering grew louder, and the earth shook. From the area where the glowing eyes, still hidden amongst the fungal fields and dawn dark sky, there came a shrill sound like that of the watcher Olthoi that
I had neared in our first venture here. Its scream was cut short, and after a long moment an empty carapace landed in a crumpled heap a few yards from where we hid, dead and sucked dry.

The rumbling ceased for a moment, but the chittering became maddening. Time passed. We waited as the sun crested the horizon spilling a purplish-red blight across the 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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land. It was only then that we saw the magnitude of our situation. 

On one side of our position the Olthoi were amassed. Some stood nearly ten feet in height, others were squat. They varied in color from a bright purple to a deep violet and light green. An army of insects that all shared the like quality of two murderous pincers sprouting from their backs. Each gathered by type, perhaps caste. What appeared to be the eldest or largest had thick carapaces marred with scars of many battles. The youngest, marked in both height and a lighter purple


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carapace, had thin chitin that shielded their insides. The winged terrors that had earlier surveyed our band flew above the mass dipping from time to time to lift smaller "shock troops" into the air where they hovered.

To our other side, where once had been a thousand glowing eyes, we saw creatures even more hideous than my brothers' murderers. These creature swayed side to side in the morning light. Each stood on three pair of legs. Their mid sections were thin. A three pronged "beak" functioned


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as their head. The "eyes" which we had seen were actually mottled spots of phosphorescent hair that covered their legs in round patches. They made no noise, but twitched erratically. 

As the sun arced completely over the horizon the chittering reached a crescendo, and the battle began. The olthoi horde began a charge that again set the earth trembling. The other insects reared onto their hind four legs and lifted paired appendages from along the length of their abdomens. These new appendages bent once and looked like paired stingers. Each


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came to a fine point that looked capable of piercing the strongest ship armor of the Imperial fleet.

The airborne Olthoi carried their smaller kin across the field and dropped them behind their attackers. As they flew back toward the main horde several fell to a barrage of a thick fluid, spit from the "beaks" of the attackers. Olthoi swarmed into our position and careened off of the force bubble. The stampede claimed the lives of some, one was left injured but still alive.

One of the pincers on its back had been 


author_Name: Gaerlan
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broken and a foul smelling green acid leaked from the wound. The thing squealed madly as it struggled to right itself onto a shattered leg.

As they came closer to their attackers the Olthoi began falling to a continuous onslaught of the gummy discharge from their attacker's beaks. Any that avoided these attacks were met by swift death by way of the paired stingers. Each stinger would pierce their eyes after which the olthoi would crumple to the ground motionless. The stingers "lashed" out as they struck their marks, extending to twice


author_Name: Gaerlan
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the length of the attacking insectoids bodies. Those olthoi fortunate enough to close into striking distance were met with an even swifter and fouler death. 

The massive front legs of the attacking insects had already been lifted into the air and as the olthoi came within striking distance these legs were driven into a small break in the olthoi carapace. The attackers would tear the front half of the carapace away and rip the innards of the olthoi clear with its beak. It was remarkable to behold, being both brutal and efficient; a testament of a predator destroying its prey.


author_Name: Gaerlan
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The Olthoi had numbers on their side, but the malevolence, tenacity and superiority of their assailants was unmistakable. As the battle wore on their numbers dropped. The stench from the dead and dying was nearly unbearable. We watched as the six legged insectoids drove the younger Olthoi back toward the cavity. Oddly they did not attack them, choosing instead to keep them alive. Now as the battle died and the sun began to languish in the air the spoils of the battle were collected in the field. From the veritable thousands of Olthoi that had been involved in the assault only the young and injured were spared. The predators, who 


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a portion of their number collected the bodies into piles. Using their "beaks" as spinners, like spiders, the assailants fashioned large stretchers where they piled the dead.

The ground began trembling anew, much louder and harsher than before. The Olthoi-killers snapped their beaks closed on their stretchers and ran from the field on their six legs. 

Here, we chose to make our move. Asheron lowered the bubble as the quake rocked our shield wall apart. The injured Olthoi


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still squirmed and wriggled within an arms reach. The soldiers swatted its pincers aside with their shields until they could be manacled properly. 

The earth was trembling incredibly hard by the time that we had the specimen ready for travel. Asheron, begged us to move more quickly as he chanced a glance into the cavity.

Then he shouted to us, "Run! Run to the portal and get through my students! Run! Bring your specimen to the Emperor, Gaerlan, we have woken something most


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foul. Light preserve us, oh dear Light preserve us." We did, leaving the old man there to cover our escape.

As the soldiers dragged the specimen along the ground I chuckled silently to myself. No one knew what was so soon to transpire.

We crested the hill where our portal home had been rooted and began running through. Oh the sounds, the noise the beautiful terror that crept into my heart under the weight of that icy scream. Whatever was awoken in that pit sounded


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as though the heavens had been torn asunder.

The last adept crept timidly through the portal, calling to me to retrieve Asheron. I told him that I would. Then, alone, I began my spell and quashed the portal. It disappeared before my very eyes. When the light it cast drifted from the area, I pulled the stone from my robes and brought myself through to the Knorr Lyceum. Asheron was no more.

The adepts questioned what had happened and I explained that I did not know. I 


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feigned ignorance of the portal's collapse and joined them in a frantic search for research on creating a portal back to the world. After an hour, they became disheartened and abandoned their search. They too understood the old man was gone.

Now, my brother, you can rest. The two of you can rest, together.

(Here a great many pages have been torn free. Anything written upon them is lost.)


author_Name: Gaerlan
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Our world is no longer ours. It is overrun by a feeble species we discovered some years before the Olthoi swarmed through Knorr. Though they bear a resemblance to us in physical appearance, they are miniscule and meek in the capacity to harness magic. They think that there are but four schools of magic.

I have found, however, that my unceremonious purge from that stasis was nothing more than a freak occurrence. There is only one other Empyrean upon Ireth Lassel. I have failed once before to end his existence, but this time I shall not


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fail. 

I have fallen in with one of these feeble things that seems to have been altered in a way that I cannot understand. He speaks as though he is two people at once, perhaps this is a common occurrence in his race. Regardless I shall use this mental instability to my advantage and utilize him. He seeps with a far greater power than any of his minions. With his assistance I can seal the gateways from their world, thereby stifling the influx of anymore, then turn my attentions to destroying Asheron, and freeing my people from that stasis they are


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now in.

The human known as Martine is far more powerful than I have given him credit for, I am growing tired of groveling before him. The residual weakness of my transition from the place between worlds back to Ireth Lassel has waned. I am once again able to harness my command of lesser minds, and have set about enslaving the weakest among Martine's forces. They will function as suitable thralls.

There is a Blood Witch alive. She shifted the blood of the world, something not done


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lightly. I have set out my first thrall to find her. I shall meet with her and see what she will have to offer me. Two pawns are better than one after all. I have been fortunate, that the Old Man has yet to become aware of my presence. Martine bears him nearly as much ill as I do. This has proven most advantageous time and again. 

The woman is a fool. She has no concept of the forces that she tampers with. She scrapes the very veins of the world, tearing them free of their former positions and redirecting them to her own cause. She is brash, cocky and foolish. She also shares a


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commonality with me, hatred of Asheron. Though hers is a more uniform hatred of all our race. Nevertheless she will be used.

Her organization has been more than helpful. They have succeeded where the Brotherhood failed. The cisterns are once again functioning. The temple has begun to rise. Martine remains a useful tool, though his unpredictable nature has made my sojourns into the world a thing of difficulty. He still is focused on having revenge. I have no doubt that he will bring the Old Man to me.


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I have found a place guarded by the same undead that first built the cisterns. They defend an object that seems to fit as a device to pilot the temple. I have set a thrall to collecting the necessary object for constructing these devices.

It is done. The citadel is risen and Asheron has made his decision. Martine is hated by those that he once defended and he has enabled me to meet Asheron. The old man has chosen to defend these creatures over his own race. Nuhmudira will be a fitting receptacle for my sacrifices and I then shall have the blood of the world at my 


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command. It shall hear my voice only and bow to my commands. Then I shall wrest this world from Asheron, and wipe these vermin from the world. 

And when I bring my brethren and the Emperor back from the space between I shall be the greatest of my kind.


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Event: Third visit to the Olthoi Homeworld.

Results:

Emperor Kellin II,

We have returned from the Olthoi homeworld with three more specimens, as you had commanded. We have returned with one each of their flying, soldier and breeding varities. The last was the most difficult to obtain, as she was protected by the hive. She is severely injured, and though I think that once he knows of your


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plans he will become more unmanageable, I think that we should consult Asheron on the feasibility of controlling her.

She is, as he surmised, resistant entirely to our mind control. It appears as though she is the collective mind for the whole. 

I am saddened to report that one phalanx was lost in the assault, but this is a minor amount considering the odds that we faced.

There was no sign of the predator insects that we witnessed on the second journey to their world. Though there was evidence 


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of another assault in the short time between our visits. 

In all, Lord Emperor, it was best to not have Asheron in attendance. His injuries would have hampered us all. Though in truth, his descriptions of the location of the cavity and the breeder were accurate. 


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Event: Release from the place between worlds.

Results: 

Emperor Kellin II,

I have been released from stasis within the place between worlds. I have found that Asheron has been lax in his duty, choosing instead to coddle a race of vermin that think. His attention is misplaced upon assisting these things populate and claim our land as their own. I have implemented a contingency plan to rid the world of these 


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invaders by persuading one of their own to destroy them.

Thus far its efforts have failed and I have needed to further my own self so as to take on the role of executioner. The world appears to have fallen from the sway of the Olthoi, into the hands of the humans. They are softer and do not resist mind tampering. They do, however, have a strong force of will and can bend minor magic to their call. Some have become fair Heiromancer's but none show more promise than the one that I have employed as my pawn.


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This report shall function as a living document hereon.

I have found another, my Lord, who can call upon arts long forgotten. She has been eliminated, but with her passing I have needed to take further action to ensure Asheron's destruction for his tampering against the Throne.

It has become obvious that his devotion to these things drives him now. He has an unnatural fatuation with assisting them, the reasons as to why remain unclear. His treason will not go unpunished.


author_Name: Martine
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Melanay,

Every night I'm convinced I will wake up next to you, that all of this has been a dream.  It's easier at night.  As I look up at the two moons overhead, how can this be anything but a dream?  The two moons are only the beginning of the strangeness.

The mornings...the mornings are cruel, Melanay.  How many blessed dawns did I share with you and Aritta?  It was our time, a time before the work of a day made me tired and quiet


author_Name: Martine
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To see sunlight blanket your hair as you lay curled on your side; to lay my hand upon the curve of your hip and feel through your back to my breast each breath you took; to know that our child, a combination of you and me, greater than either of its origins, lay in the next room, a body of energy and joy, a beautiful beautiful...is there a moment more sublime?

What have I done?

The sun rises in this strange land.  But in light, this place looks little different than our own.  


author_Name: Martine
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The flora and fauna are all different, I have already started to take notes, there is this fascinating creature...no, I am sorry, Melanay.  I will not let myself be distracted.  In light of day, all hope is burned out of me that I am living a dream; a nightmare, true, but one from which one day I could have hoped to wake up.  

But the sun lets me know that all is real.  That you and Aritta are gone.

Are you safe, my dearest?  Is Aritta?  This is what keeps me awake at night.  Almost, I could find a sad and bitter peace were I 


author_Name: Martine
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assured of your safety.  

In time, perhaps, you would remarry.  And in time, Aritta would grow up, find a man of her own.

Make sure he is more faithful than me, Melanay.  Oh, make sure of it.

I did not want to leave.  There was a...call.  It called to me, Melanay.  It sung.  Sweet, sweet words danced and played in my head as I slept.  I did not have a choice.  I did not...


author_Name: Martine
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No.  I will not lie.  You may never see these words, but here, at least, I shall be true.  I did choose.  I just had no idea what that choice would reap.  I have asked, Melanay.  Asked and pleaded, screamed and begged.  I have asked the soil and the sky, the river and the flames.  

No one will tell me how to get back to you.

When hope has failed, where tears, threats, and rage cannot penetrate, what then?  What course in life shall I pursue when I am dead in all ways that matter?


author_Name: Martine
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Do you and Aritta think me dead, Melanay?  When I first arrived here, I regretted that you might think that, when I thought I was so very much alive.  Now I know it would be best.  A brief time of sharp pain.  And then you could move on.  You could heal.

Perhaps I should die here.  It's hard to contemplate the end of life, the end of sight and sound and knowing, when there is still some chance that I could see you and Aritta again.  But perhaps this is a extraordinary kind of dream, one that requires a extraordinary method of waking from.


author_Name: Martine
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I would put my dagger through my heart if I knew I would see both of you again because of it.

But there is a man, Melanay.  His name is Sir Mikael Alayne, an Aluvian Lord who keeps trying to convince me to join a new society.  A Society of Explorers.  They have a name for this world.  Dereth.  He has plans, many plans.  He wants to catalogue this world.  "Through knowledge, young Martine, we shall make this world our own."


author_Name: Martine
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He is a noble man, full of ability and generosity.  And he wants me to help.  He says he has a purpose for me. 

Am I betraying you yet again?  

But I have to believe.  I have to believe that there is a reason to survive.  I have to believe that there is a reason to not surrender to the darkness, to the fear.  I have to believe that a month from now, a year, ten years, at some point in time I will see you and our daughter again. 


author_Name: Martine
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Because of what I choose now.  Because I will not give up.  Perhaps Sir Alayne's pursuit of knowledge will one day enable me to return to Ispar.  It is possible, yes?  

What does one do when hope fails?  Continue to hope.

Melanay.  I remember how you used to scold me,  "You say you love me, but you sit there in silence.  Talk to me, Candeth, tell me of your day.  That is love."  You said it with gentleness, and I tried to explain to you how difficult it was to relate the minute details of my day and my work.


author_Name: Martine
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How little desire I had, except for a rare occasion, to communicate in such a fashion.  I spent all my day involved in ledgers and balances and disputes and money.  Why would I ever want to talk about it?

You said you understood.  And there were times that I tried.  Tried to relate, in as concise a manner as possible, what had gone on that day, tried to mimic the patterns I saw when you and your friends gathered in the kitchen and talked.


author_Name: Martine
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I say all this now to apologize.  I was wrong.  And when I see you again, I will make it up to you.  There will be a shower of kisses and gentle touches.  And talk.  We will talk all about my adventures, and about Aritta, and whatever else you wish to talk about.  We will exchange words and looks with each other from sunrise til sunset, and forever after, if you so wish.

Forever and ever and ever.  Let me see you but one more time, and never shall I be foolish enough to leave again.

Candeth 


author_Name: Josef
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Here is a list of things that I think Martine might like. You help me out, I help you. It's simple really.

Needs:

Virindi Masks
Yellow Virindi Jewels
Quiddity Ingots
Shackles of Obedience
Directive Keys
Master Keys
Singularity Keys


author_Name: Ciandra
author_Account: prewritten
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When Asheron first came into the Consortium, I was amazed. He offered us knowledge beyond everything we had begun to comprehend thus far and he directed our attentions to some shortcomings. 

Bahb was less impressed but he was still shocked by the level of enlightenment that Asheron offered us. As a result he and the few other tinkerers beneath him have been working day and night in an effort to perfect the "Ust". 

A strange word, coming from the Yalaini


author_Name: Ciandra
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language as explained to us by Asheron. It means; that which reduces, or at least that is the closest conversion in Roulean.

I was asked to take a break from my work to assist in creating the processes that would be used with the concentrated materials. As well I was asked to pen this book, as an introduction to you, the populace, so that you could more easily grasp the concepts of this great magic that we have unlocked.


author_Name: Ciandra
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Basics

There are two aspects of tinkering, Salvaging and Application. 

Salvaging refers to the extraction of the base qualities of an item. 

Application refers to the infusion, or enhancement of an existing item by way of adding the salvaged qualities of other items to the "tinkered" item.


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Qualities

Every item that has ever been created attains qualities. These qualities are determined by the craftsman who worked with them and the material that was initially used to create the item. These qualities are explained as Workmanship and Material Type.

Workmanship refers to how well made the item is. The higher the workmanship level the more potent the itmem is. 

Material Type refers to the material that


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was used to craft the object. Typically these are metals, stones, cloths and gems.

The Ust and Salvaging

The Ust is a mystical device that reduces items into their base qualities, trasforming them into a material. Each material type has a very specific purpose, or application.

The Ust can only be used to extract, or reduce, like propertied items. The first item placed into the Ust determines the type of materials that are to be extracted. For example, placing a wool shirt within the


author_Name: Ciandra
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Ust would mean that all other objects placed within would need to be made of wool in order for the process to work.

Once you have placed your items within the Ust you can extract the qualities into a material. The material will be given a quantity, and an average workmanship of the items reduced. Anyone can use an Ust as it is a mystical device that harvests the qualities. However, if you have a stronger rudimentary understanding of how materials work, whether through your knowledge of armor, weaponry, or magical  and normal item you will harvest greater


author_Name: Ciandra
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amounts of materials. No matter how proficiently skilled you are in tinkering, the quality of the materials will be an average of the items used. Example: If you place a perfectly crafted item with a poorly crafted item you will most likely obtain a material of average quality.

Another mystical quality of the Ust is the ability to determine the difference between materials and items. When you place materials, the reduced form of items, into the Ust with other materials, the quantity of those items are added together, and a new average quality is obtained. The most 


author_Name: Ciandra
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amazing thing about this process is that the Ust recognizes when there are items mixed with materials. When instances such as this arise it will obtain the quantity and average workmansip quality of the items and add them to the existing materials. 

For example, if you place 12 bolts of average Wool with three Wool shirts of perfect workmanship quality into the Ust, you will first collect the quantity of wool from the shirts. Let's say16 bolts.The Ust will add the 16 bolts to the 12 bolts and determine the average workmanship quality of the material based on the total 


author_Name: Ciandra
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amount of items used. 

Easy, right?

Remember, anyone can salvage. Items that are reduced to materials can be sold to shopkeepers at a greatly reduced cost, but they are also far lighter than the items they are extracted from.

Application

Salvaged materials can be applied to items. Each material will alter a very specific area of the item you wish to tinker with. Wool


author_Name: Ciandra
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for example is an excellent source of insulation from the cold. It's no surprise then that it will affect the level of cold protection that armor offers. 

Applying materials can only be attempted by a skilled tinkerer. That means that you must be trained in armor, weapon, item or magic item tinkering in order to manipulate items with materials.

Armor tinkerers work with armor, weapon tinkerers work with weapons, magic items work with qualities of a powerful and mystical nature, at the moment we are still


author_Name: Ciandra
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working on direct applications, and item tinkerers work with the generic applications such as weight, and value of objects. Again without training in one of these areas, it will not be possible for a person to apply materials.

Materials can only be added to items when you have 100 pieces of a single material type. For example, if you wished to increase the cold protection of a piece of armor, you would need 100 bolts of Wool and be an armor tinkerer to attempt the adjustment. Then based upon several factors you would either succeed or fail in


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the application.

Success will modify the protection to be better, whereas failure would result in both the material and the item being destroyed.

It is not easy to tinker with crafted items, but there are some things that will make the process go more smoothly.

First obtain the highest average workmanship materials that you can. The better the workmanship of your materials, the easier they are to work and adapt.


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Second, lesser quality wokrmanship items are easier to improve as they were not that well crafted to begin with. The more close to perfect an item is the harder it will be to improve.

Third, don't overdo it. The more you tinker an object the more difficult it will become to make it better. So the easier it will become to ruin the object.

Lastly, but most importantly; practice. You will get better if you practice your trade. The more often you work at the better you'll become.


author_Name: Unknown
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The most sinister and vile of the four Disciples, those sworn to Corrosion were already befouled when they were within the camps of my people. They struggled even then for a modicum of acceptance. They were the most depraved of our kind. Some thought them fallen to shadow, but they reviled the shadow more than they reviled the Yalain. 

They were the perfect zealots, capable of massive destruction when their minds were set to the correct course of action, brutal, effective, and cruel.


author_Name: Unknown
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Minsiter Haust was nearly a General of mine. He would have been, were it not for an outlandish belief that he was to lead my people. Instead he was relegated to a later claiming, and thus his tie was weak. It would have been easily lost were it nor for the meddling of the other deserters. But the wheel has a desire to turn full circle and in the end I was there to claim his soul as my own. The force of my will won over and he was torn asunder.

Like their brethren who followed Stasis they were given to "problems" but they were not the same. 


author_Name: Unknown
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Many were already far beyond the reach of salvation of any kind when they fled from my protection. It was merely a matter of time before they fell into the throes of dissolution and were scatter to the wind like so much dust.

Were I there to see them fall I would have laughed, as the last vestige of what they were spiraled on the winds of the grand desert and took flight to the eastern ocean

-G-


author_Name: Unknown
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Doctrine of Corrosion

We are that which comes to all, the end.
We are the misery that slowly peels aside the flesh and warps the bone,
We are the lost.
We are the pieces of the world that can never be recovered as they have been mired in death.
We are the forces that soften stone.
We are the forces that turn wood to sponge.
We are the force that mars the surface of the globe.
We are the stench.
We are the poison.


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We are the blight. 
We are the horror.
We are the wretched.

Our taint shall be in the mire. There we will build our temple and give rise to our cistern. Within the bowels of the world where the sulfur and brimstone brim at the edges of the world's cauldron we shall draw forth the blood and bend it to our will. It will seep through the edges of what is and slowly corrupt all that it touches.


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We shall be the new purveyors of death and life. Corrosion shall come and claim all that is riches, and all that lives. It shall seep into the very foundation of the world and tear asunder all that lives. There will be death in its name. There shall be putrescence and malediction. It shall serve as the disease that will cause this world to fester and drive all that live upon it into the wretched heaving cough of death. We shall be the new kings, from our cathedrals of filth. In the mire we will lord over our subjects with our wills firmly entrenched in the beings that we summon forth from the Blood.


author_Name: Unknown
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Corrosion shall take his form and where he walks blight will score the land.

Haust, Minister of Corrosion

Defilement

We try, the Lord Haust knows this and so he pleads with the council to allow us more time, but the years go by so quickly and still we have nothing to show for our efforts. Only the Disciples of Stasis move slower than us. It is by the tenacity of our lord alone that we are given leave to further our causes.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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It is the Blood revolting against us. We are tired of the efforts and we grow weary of the world. Our minds are cluttered with new voices and a silent madness has begun to seep into our people. This cave becomes more a tomb as the day's progress and still there is no hope of our completing the cistern properly. We require a way to sustain ourselves but there is no way for us to do so. Our flesh melts within this horrific place, and though we are born to live in the harshest clime our flesh is still weak against the power of Corrosion.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Only one device has been placed, and that is at the highest point in the cistern. The lower we transcend the more foul the air becomes and quicker we rot away. We are losing sense of self and our forms all at once. Damned be we cursed few.

The Wretched

A bubbling mass called out to our workers. It leapt toward us and splashed itself against us. 


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
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Half our numbers were consumed, and the other half were scarred severely enough that we needed to sequester their forms in a place where they will grow more maddened and finally fade into nothing. It is a more piteous death for them, or so we believe. 

Those that died thrashed in agony for hours as their forms twisted to the whim of the Blood. Corrosion took form for us and claimed its price for being awoken. It was never meant to be. It was never meant to be. It did not sing, it roared and those that listened ran toward it in utter horror of their motions. Those that blocked the noise were 


author_Name: Unknown
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stymied and could not find their feet to run. Those that allowed the terror to consume what vestige of a soul they had left found themselves drowning in a see of putrescent agony.

Limbs were scattered across the room giving it the appearance of a wreckage of a ship thrashed against a thousand rocks. They sizzled and popped as the acid ate away at flesh and scored bone and greedily supped upon the marrow that lay within. 


author_Name: Unknown
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Screams echoed in the lower halls and as we ran from that place and sealed the door with a stone thick enough to hold the strongest survivor at bay indefinitely we heard the voice of Corrosion call again.

"Wake me, from the nothing that I was to the glory of what I am now. Whose soul shall be next?"

It claimed one of us and used the body for a form. I was never meant to be, should not be.


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(Translator's Note: The first voice returns here.)

Almost penitent. Were it not for the knowledge that Haust had his Disciples would have been abandoned. They lacked the foresight or the strength to defend themselves against the corrosive force of acid. Thus they succumbed to a nightmarish fate that granted them all eternal peace through torture.

Acid should have been their strongest, but instead it became a weakness. 


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A pale shadow of what could have been. Given rise too soon and taken away before it could be properly harnessed. We found Haust huddled in the library surrounded by the lowest form of our ilk. We chased him to the lowest levels of their labyrinth and left their bones piled to the ceilings as a reminder to any that would trespass there that revolt against us would be repaid in such a way.

Thus fell the Disciples of Corrosion.

-G-


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Disciples of Strife

Unlike their stagnant brethren, the Disciples of Strife were a fragmented and loose coalition of intelligent beings. They spent their time within the very fire of volcanoes and studied the effect of the Blood of the World on their magical arts. Their fractious nature left very little room for deep study, or so it appears. The only remnant that I was able to collect from their halls in regards to their involvement with the calling of this being from the depths of the world was the canon that they followed.


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Oddly, this Canon was well composed and much more rigid than those of their brethren. 

When I unleashed my wrath upon these foes, I was unable to torture the truth from any of them. They were too used to the flames to be affected by the methods of persuasion at my command. Likewise it appears that any of my spies that attempted to infiltrate their ranks were either dismissed or simply could not survive within the order. 


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My generals were candid with me in explaining that some of these Disciples escaped their grasp. Worse they were able to abscond with a most important relic. The purpose of the relic was two fold. One, it was a navigational beacon that could be affixed to my citadel. Two, it was a device that could create an impenetrable field around the citadel proper. While within the bounds of this device the citadel would become impassible to any being with Yalain blood. Misfortunes do happen.


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Misfortunes, odd how they compound. One moment you are within striking distance of you foe, the next at his mercy. It is true in this instance. We were close, so very close to regaining the seat of this world. If the Disciples of Strife had been less formidable we would have claimed the relic and learned more of what they intended. But they were prepared, waiting, and they had found a way to escape and to shield themselves from discovery.

We were lax. We shall never be again.


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Code of Strife

We are the purveyors of all that consumes in the holy fires of the world.
We are wrath.
We are fury.
We are hate.
We are the embodiment of revenge.
We are the ember that burns within the eye of rage.
We are they who calm the storm to unleash the balefire on the world.
We are the living beings given to Strife.


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In the fires that burn beneath the mountains of the world we shall make our home. There we will become one with the flame and allow it to nurture our flesh as it burns away our impurity. In the heat we shall swelter and forge our minds solid. 

In the burning we shall take our seat and dwell among the magma. There we shall call upon the Blood to take its form among us. We shall work flame into reality, and then control it with the Minister's devices.


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A flood of molten fury shall be set upon the world. We shall be the masters. The Blood of the World shall be turned against the Yalain, and we shall be the spearheads of the forces, the strength of the armies that will march across the land. We shall be the forward charge of Strife and the Champion, Warrior and Magi of the flame. The Blood shall call to us, in ways that no other shall comprehend.


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When the One is drawn forth from the blood of the four it is we who shall be there to beckon it along and give it direction. Then in new forms of elemental fury we shall march side by side and cleanse this world with purging fire leaving nothing but ash in our wake. In our cistern there shall be flame and the charred remains of those that oppose us will fuel the furnaces of the world forever more.

Rise now and serve with me, be the blood that boils beneath the crust of this world. Join with the blood and stand inside the perfect wrath. 


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(Translator Note: The first voice returns here.)

Summation

Fanatical. Sadly they did desert us. They are to be hunted with impunity. Destroy them where you find them and show no remorse in silencing their voices forever. If we find their hidden location it will quicken or resurgence that much quicker.


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Disciples of Stasis

When I first became aware that some of our order had left I was disturbed. We had struggled too long to be torn apart by infighting and this group, who thought themselves above the call of their leader, drove my ire to new expanses. Even now as we dig through the ashes of what was once their home I find myself driven to the point of madness. How dare they think that they were better than I?


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Regardless of their transgressions, an effort must be made to preserve their actions, lest someone else follow their path and lead the whole world (Translator's Note: The sentence does not end here, but a fragment of the page has been torn free.) It is also for the sake of preserving some of the discoveries that were made as the Disciples strode ever closer to perfecting their art.

What follows henceforth are their words. Learn them well.

-G-


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Brothers, our art is incomplete. As we gave ourselves over to the magic taught to us by our kin from the west we did not fully understand the implications of our action. Now we grow weaker as the bond between our mind and body grows weak. These are the truths that have been sheltered from us, hidden away by the Master.

We will die, though our bodies will continue to live, we will slowly lose what we are and decay into nothing more than bone. There is a way to extend our years, but the way to do so is unknown.


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Our brother-kin from the west called to the voices that sang out in the great River of the World, and they were answered. We too must call to the voices that sing within the River, and ask them for assistance. 

This doctrine shall be the means by which we work with the other Disciples of the Blood. With them we shall call in unison to the voice that unites all within the Blood of the World, and the Disciples of the Blood shall be spared the horror of loss. We shall exist for all time and our kin that still follow the Master will fall into shambles and ruin.


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Doctrine of Stasis

We shall heed the call of Stasis alone.
We shall preserve the bodies of of brothers and sisters.
We shall heed the will of the frozen Blood.
We shall serve as the anchor of the Single Voice.
We shall strive to preserve our memories within the Stasis.
We shall draw upon the Blood to give form.
We shall defend that form from invaders.
We shall keep that form hidden.
We shall keep that form separate.


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We shall give that form life.
We shall hide our arts within that form.

Follow those rules well brethren. 

At the dawn of this world, there was the Blood and our brother-kin heard it call to them. There was a single voice then and that voice taught them. They came to us in their need and passed their learning to us. Now it is the time for us to assist the Blood. We shall build it a body that we will defend.


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Beneath the world, away from the eyes of the Master and his followers, away from the Cerulean Crested Armies, we shall build devices that will draw the Blood forth and give it the form of Stasis.  With our magic we shall conceal the form from the world until it is prepared. In the cisterns we build we shall draw from the Blood and create its children. They shall be tasked to its defense and we shall see that they are given the minds to do so.


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Stray from this course and your mind shall be quickened away. The judgment shall be passed, and in the place of forgetting you shall be stripped of what you are and cast out as merely bone.

Arakae, Minister of Stasis

Chamber of Stasis

Report 1

We have begun digging the tunnels that will serve as the conduit through which the Blood shall be gathered.


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Above, we have built the temple as was instructed by Arakae. There we will begin our Rites and summon forth the form of Stasis, and create his children, the elements of frost.

Report 2

Tragedy has struck in the form of betrayal. Brother Naerin was discovered to be a traitor. He was taken to the place of forgetting, and all of the Disciples of Stasis have cast their charge and chosen to strip him of his mind and empty his shell. 


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Then he shall be loosed from the prison to wander the world as a soulless being for the rest of eternity.

Report 3

Set-backs have caused us to fall behind our brethren in the creation of the cistern. We now face judgment by Arakae. We hope that he will understand our position and as our representative upon the council of the Disciples of Blood show pity. Already three of our brethren have been emptied of their thoughts. This has been the cause of much of our delay.


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Report 4

As I personally enter this temple to see that the work that we must accomplish is completed I am struck with a sense of wonder. A wonder driven by the ineptitude of those that stood in this place before my arrival. Monthly reports are terse, uncharacteristic of those that I received while upon the council.

In examining the work completed so far I have reasoned that the work will be several months behind, if not years. 


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This bodes ill, as we have found several spies from the Master already within our ranks. It appears our exodus was not as shrouded as we believed.

Time is now of the essence. Without the cistern fully prepared and complete we will be at a sever disadvantage should those loyal to the Master launch themselves against us in assault.

To that end I have sent word to the other Ministers to remove all important valuables from the Temples. 


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We will house them instead in the Library where they might still be defended well.

(Translator Note: Several pages are missing here. When the writing begins again it has returned to the first voice. One note of importance: the pages have been removed but the evidence of that removal is nearly imperceptible. Further this book is written episodically but the pages are in order, as though the book itself was rearranged.)


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There were more, but the details were not necessary. Arakae for all of his wiles fell eventually. My warriors were far too powerful for him. As we swept aside the Disciples leaving the Ministers to answer for their treason he wailed like a child. 

I wonder if he had known that I meant to take the gift of Undeath away from him, or if he thought I would tear place him in "the place of forgetting." The research that he held was important, but his was a small mind easily stripped of details that should have been more closely guarded. 


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My beloved was quite cruel when she dispatched of him.

One last note and this book shall be placed into my library.


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Heretic Journal

Taej, a Disciple of Stasis swore to the end of his memories that what we were attempting was against the course of this world. He endeared to the Ministers that we had chosen a path that would damn this world to darkness if we brought our efforts to fruition. Taej was at first a devout follower of Stasis believing that we had indeed discovered a way to ensure that the longevity of our bodies could be matched by our minds. His turn away from the beliefs came as a blow to many. 


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At one point I must confess that I was intrigued by his claims. He said that he had discovered that the songs sung from the world were nothing more than emanations of the same foe that drew away one of us some years back. He also had reasoned that we had forgotten something else long ago.
Those moments left quickly.

Our course is set. We will raise Stasis, and then the four shall be joined as one, and we shall be its masters.

Arakae


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There is much to be said for energy and the correlation to treachery. There is also much to be said for intelligence and the application of that intelligence into something that leads to greatness. 

Our nearest failure in eradicating the Disciples came at the hands of those sworn to Tempest. This tome holds their accomplishments, and ultimate failure, as well as the names of the heretical Ministers.

They are no more, and these personal tomes serve as the only living memory of their existence.


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Within the walls of my home shall these books remain, until such a time that they are no longer necessary as a - (Translator note: Whether this area is an omission or another in the strange oddities that I have found throughout these tomes I do not know. Regardless it can be seen as how one would not see the warnings that are presented herein.)


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Discoveries of the Blessed Tempest

I, Millakt, Minister Supreme of the Disciples of the Blood place pen to parchment to record the discoveries of our people. I endeavor to educate those that will follow in our place and join us as we move toward the eradication of unbelievers in our midst, and in our way. We have, with the assistance of each branch of the Disciples, sequestered the way of Heiromancy into base forms that stem from a greater whole to achieve a new and advanced form of magic.


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Let the Yalaini steward who lives by way of tragic irony have his understanding of the well between worlds. We shall be content to dominate this one and alleviate the burden of living beings upon it. We understand control now, and can endure the sundering of souls and minds. The treachery of the Master is a thing of the past, and we shall use our new found understanding to instead enslave him and his.


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Soul Channeling

Through practice of advanced techniques involving higher thought we have sequestered the memories into a palpable form that allows transfer from a subject into a receptacle. Thus far the only receptacles that are suitable come in the form of prisms that grow from the earth near places where the Blood flows greatest.

By the sacrifice of some of our number we have been able to solidify the thoughts of those sacrificed. 


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Their spirits live on in the form of thin tendril of energy that are connected to the prisms and to a central column constructed of pyreal. When an entity is place upon the apex of the column over time the fleeting memories that the soul requires to remain anchored to the flesh body are removed and stored within the bounds of the prism.

A deeper understanding of the dynamics of crystals may well be necessary. But the rudiments are simple. Crystals live, though their life force is different than any other thing. Their lives are measured in the amount of energy that they contain. 


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When one undergoes the process to anchor the soul to a body that will not decay they remove the life force from the self but leave the energy, and essence of themselves behind, within the vessel.

The Falatacot never underwent the transformation, or if they did they never explained the rigors of this process. Though, I believe that they never partook in the atrocity of undeath. They were a dark folk but it is unlikely that they, who seemed so conscious of both body and soul, would have given up their very souls to see that their bodies would live on.


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Being threatened with extinction changes your view slightly and so when we heeded the Master's call we cared very little about consequence and focused more upon the immediate benefit. Eternity is forever. This is not a misnomer. It is a misdirection. 

Those whose will was strong in life are able to cling with more tenacity to their whole essence while those that struggled through their existence in life are torn asunder and scattered. They leave behind the trappings of mortal life, understanding, knowledge, intelligence, and replace it with the physical form that is truly undying. 


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But that remnant of the self is lost to echo for eternity upon the wind, in the soil, in the halls where they walked.

I have watched the sad transformation of many of our people and each death from undeath has made me fear more that I would one day succumb to the rigor of death. And there caught inside the savagery of eternal torment I have thought that I would lose my last vestige of self and be torn away from the one thing that made me unique. No longer.


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The where by and what for remains a mystery but we know that the process works, and can be reversed. As long as the subject is a learned scholar of the magic of the mind they are able to transfer their consciousness into such a receptacle and have access to the memories when need be.

This, our first finding is the most glorious and the one that shall be most coveted by our enemies.


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Heiromantic Solidification

As children we were taught of the 6 elements of the world, and how they came to be corrupted or changed. How water and wind were replaced by the frozen tundra and the poison. We know how light and dark battle endlessly as elements opposed with neither being the greater power. We know that there is nothing in this world that is not a shade of both combined, just leaning a little more toward the other.


