The gentle slopes of the hills are constantly shrouded in thin, mists, causing everything to take on a dream-like feel. There are few trees to break the confusing landscape of curves, only grass and other short plants. A few rivers flow through, each as winding as everything else in the realm. Strangely they seem to run in no particular pattern, and though it is hard to tell for sure, it looks as if they are almost defying the natural expectations one might have of river flows.

The Msons as a people are similar to three-eyed humans. They appear slightly stretched out and oddly thin, and they move in a similar manner. Msons have a high reverence for the mystical and the unnatural, and it is said that they dream more vividly than any other known people. Dreams take a high prevalence in the community, with many individuals believing that dreams are the gateways to understanding. On the other hand, Msons have a heavy distrust of what they see, even with their extra eye. They prefer to rely on reasoning to understand the world, believing the visual to only be a metaphor of existence. Nevertheless, they live a fairly tribal life, defaulting to various family structures organized into groups.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:18, Wed 19 Aug 2009.

With a strange pop, Msonus appears here, followed closely by a trio of what appear to be disembodied eyes. He is lying down, as if asleep, and sits up slowly. He rubs his eyes with a yawn.

"Ah what a strange dream... What a strange, strange dream."

His third eye opens, and blinks.

(Good to see you)

A small individual wanders towards Msonus, and then stops suddenly, surprised.

".. Lord? Is that you?"

(Same to you)
"It might well be. Who am I?" Msonus asks, as the disembodied eyes streak out, two forwards and one backwards.

"Rather, who do you want me to be?"

"I.. I.."

The man drops forward, tears in all three of his eyes.

"Lord! I am so thankful!"

"So am I," Msonus says quietly, standing still and watching the emotions of the man with some curiosity. He waits for the man to begin to clear up.

The man eventually gains his composure.

"I.. how can I be of assistance, my Lord?"

"I suppose it seems prudent to tell me about myself," Msonus says, smiling slightly at the man now.

He holds up a hand and sweeps it around in a wide gesture. "and what may be mine."

"This is all yours, Lord.. and I cannot even hope to define a splendor such as your own. You are the epitome of everything everyone strives towards."

"And how has your own striving been, then?" Msonus asks. He winks, which, with three eyes, is quite a different seeming gesture. The two open eyes, upper and right, look at the mans face.

"I... not entirely so well, my Lord. I lack the patience and concentration and intelligence needed for such an endeavour. I am a failure. A complete failure."

Msonus seems confused. "Patience? Concentration?" he asks. "You have the devotion, the spiritual. And, by my name, you are alive, aren't you?"

He shakes his head. "Not a failure."

"But I am not a wise man or a seer or a magician. I am simply myself, and that - in the eyes of my family and friends - means that I am a failure. My third eye is too good a gift for me."

"If you say so," Msonus says. "Well then, may you take me to where I am to go?  Or perhaps is it a who rather than a where? "

He looked confused. "I'm not sure where you mean. If it is the Grand Seer that you wish to meet with, he will be in the temple, meditating."

He looked sad.

"Perhaps that is who... But, perhaps it is not. You are not speaking your mind fully, " Msonus says.

"There is no harm in truth when you are with your dreams. "

"The truth is," said the man. "I feel as if I do not belong here. In the hills. Studying mysticism. Even worshiping you, my Lord," he added nervously, "It just doesn't feel right. As if I truly don't belong. Look at me! Laying my problems on the Three-fold Divinity!"

He was laughing, now, or crying. Msonus was unsure.

"Do you now," Msonus says, echoing. He begins to walk in a random direction, gesturing for the man to come along.

"And yet you proclaimed excitement at seeing me. What are you thankful for then? Perhaps you hoped that in seeing me, your doubts would melt away?"


He turns to look at the man eyes-to-eyes, and says flatly, "Or is it that my coming might precede your going?"

"Either, my Lord," he said. "I am unsure. I am unsure what you would do with me."

"First, I would ask your name. " Msonus says, with a smile. "For certainly no one can decide what to do with you if they do not know what you are. "

"I have forgotten my name," said the man. "I am an orphan.. the villagers call me 'Blindeye'."

"And are you blind?" Msonus asks, with curiosity. He closes his own eyes, though with the pop of a small eye, he still sees through that proxy.

"No," he replied. "Just.. mundane. Not a mystic, not a seer, not a visionary or a sorcerer.. blind to the invisible."

"Well then, perhaps we shall find you a mundane task. And maybe someday you'll be truly blinded! Wouldn't you like that?" Msonus says, not waiting for a response.

"Come, we will talk again later, but it would be nice to see the others, the ones who discarded you."

"They're all meditating at the Monastery of the Third, Lord," he said. "I am not welcome there."

"Well then, we'll just have to take you there, " Msonus says.

"It seems to me that even a... ah, what do they call you? Blindeye? should be forgiven if he sees his lord himself," the god continues, gesturing vaguely at the horizon for some reason. His voice slows down, becoming contemplative, with a rising intonation as if asking more questions.

"But more to the point, (though perhaps it is the point we should loathe the most) it is certainly no accident that you are the one who has found me. "

"Lord?" said the man, confused. "No accident..? What do you mean?"

They begin to wander towards the Monastery of the Third.

As they continue, Msonus speaks, looking ahead.

"Meaning is found most where there is confusion," he says quietly. "And with you, there is more than enough of that. Certainly where it is that you do not understand is where it is that you must look, don't you think?

Those who decreed you Blind perhaps should try to close their eyes for a moment and see. "

"I.." the man's voice trailed off.

Soon they were at the Monastery of the Third, a grand building made of purple stone and erected in worship to the Great Msonus, Architect of the Universe.

As they arrive, Msonus stops the man on the outskirts, and waves a hand. With a pop, and eye appears, and jets off into the temple to look at what lay inside.

"Are there many here?" Msonus asks. "Our kind, I mean."

"Close to five hundred.. there are several temples like this throughout Som, but this is the main - and largest - one we've built."

Msonus's eye found that the man was right: the temple was filled with many people, lined up in dozens of rows of ten, bowing and praying towards a large bronze statue of himself. The statue showed some inaccuracies, but was mostly flattering.

Msonus looks on at the temple, still talking to his guide, though he asks some surprisingly direct questions, "And, does anything happen in these rooms? Is it just bowing and statue building?"


He stops, shakes his head. His voice becomes dreamy again. "I suppose one cannot know what is inside the forbidden. Then, what comes out of it?"

"Pardon, Lord?" he looked confused.

"There is an inner sanctum.. where the High Seers do their work. Only your clergy is allowed entrance, my Lord."

"How exciting. "

He starts to walk forwards. "Very well then, shall we go in?"

"I... I'm sorry, Lord, but I've been barred. I dare not. They'll cane me."

He was scared.

"Don't be ridiculous," Msonus says. "If they cane you in the presence of their lord, I will personally take the blows for you. You are my guide, and my guide is my own. "

"T-thank you, Lord," he replied, a little shocked at the kindness of his God.

They were at the great doors of the monastery, made of solid, purple wood. The doors, as always during worship, were barred from the inside.

Msonus, lacking anything better to signal with, knocks on the door.
"You would do best to stand at my side," he says to the guide. "For that is how a good guide should be."

The chanting inside continued, but Msonus had to wait for a few moments before the bolts were undone and a large, heavily-muscled priest stepped out of the chapel, glaring at the two of them. He wielded a long, heavy piece of wood - a beating cane.

"You," he said, pointing towards Msonus's guide, "You've brought a friend. How clever. Leave my presence, or I'll have the two of you drowned."

"Those who cannot see, perhaps don't deserve to," Msonus says, flicking his finger. With a slight sound of the wind blowing, the man's eyes suddenly cease functioning, leaving him blinded. He smiles and wags his finger, purely for his own enjoyment.

"Now, don't you think your lord should be able to enter with whatever guide he chooses?"

The man did not reply; he only screamed, clutching his eyes. The meditative ceremony within had halted. They were all looking back - looking at Msonus.

The god smiles silently as the man cries out and clutches his eyes uselessly.

"Now, are all of you going to see, or shall I open your eyes as well?" Msonus asks the room, leading his guide around the screaming man as if he were merely a disturbance. His voice is loud, but not shouted.

"What - what?" asked one of the high priests. "What.. who is this intruder? Who is this witch you have brought upon us, fool?" he asked, cursing the guide.

"Kill them both!"

The people began to stand up, drawing small ceremonial daggers.

"Blind men should not pretend to see the truth. Witchery is too little a term to describe the might," Msonus says, removing the sight of all the others in the room as well with a wide sweeping gesture. "of the Mystic."

He continues, slowly walking around the room. "Those of you who pretend, who fabricate lies and ignore the truth of yoyour dreams... It seems fitting that you are those same ones who perceive lies where there are none. Are you so wrapped in deceit that you can see nothing else? Have you forgotten that it is not when you are thinking, but when you are without consciousness, that you truly know?

Stubborn children, in your tantrums do you fail to see from even a single eye? And you call my guide the fool?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Mon 21 Sept 2009.

The original priest fell to the floor in worship. The temple behind him clattered and rushed about, people yelling and stumbling and screaming.

"Lord!" proclaimed the priest. "Forgive me! I did not see it as you! Please, return my sight! We meant no ill! Forgive us, O Three-Minded One!"

"Ah, you recognize now that you do not see me, don't you? " Msonus says. "And so soon you ask forgiveness? Perhaps I am in such that mood. Those who wish their mundane sight returned, raise a hand high. "

There was silence - save a handful of sobbing begs for forgiveness from some of the crowd - as most of the temple raised their hands. The others, presumably, either didn't hear or were too panicked to do anything.

Msonus takes a moment to see if any who clearly heard did not raise their hands, while walking around and reiterating. "Go on then, keep them raised. The most interesting part about it is, of course, that you cannot see who chooses to raise their hand, and who does not.

A few did not raise their hands. These were the few who were sobbing, with guilt, believing this curse to be justice, to be exactly what they deserved; the couple who were too prideful to beg for anything, even from their own Lord; the few who were too scared to do anything; the handful of seers who believed blindness would be good for them, a blessing, that would teach them true humility; and those who believed that only by not asking for forgiveness would they be given it - those who believed that the fools who dared raise their hands would be smote threefold.

Msonus, though intrigued by the variety of reactions, seems to change his mind. He raises a hand, about to make a gesture, before he stops. "I wonder if I have promised the impossible," he says, very quietly, to his guide.

Nonetheless, he waves the hand, and attempts to restore sight to all of them.

Their sight was fully restored - a miracle.

"Thank you, oh thank you!" cried the mystics, in rapture. They'd abandoned all thoughts of harming Msonus.

"Enough," Msonus says, suddenly irritated. Perhaps he had hoped his own power would fail him. Still, he had grown tired of whining, and did not feel the children would learn any better this way.

 "Who do you claim to be your leader here?"

The High Priest - dressed in elaborate gold, deep blues, and lush purples - stood down towards Msonus, holy stave in hand. He did not raise his hand for forgiveness, and Msonus doubted whether or not he'd actually gone blind.

"I am he."

Msonus smiles at him, and though the meaning may be harsh, his words sound soft.

"And of what do you dream, or not, that you allow such closed-mindedness, brutishness and, above all, ignorance? Your children know nothing when they see, but I can forgive. What of you?"

"I am their priest and their guide. I have saved them from genocide and from starvation. While some would stare towards the stars, look into the herbs, peer into the smoke .. I gaze only into the coldness of reality. I have done more for these people then you could ever hope."

"More than I could ever hope? Presumably so, sir priest. I do not hope," Msonus says. He pauses after the statement, before continuing with a more calm voice. "And I made no doubts of your ability, though you feel the need to bring up genocide and starvation. You gaze into the coldness of reality, an admirable trait perhaps, but what is a temple full of those who do not know their god when they see him? "

"An effective temple. A temple that can survive in troubled times. Our Msonus is inside - it is a state of being, not an impersonal manifestation upon this material plane. You are nothing but a demon. Be gone, lest I blast you."

The high priest waved his stick menacingly - a thing made of cold iron, the words THE DEATH OF MSONUS engraved upon it.

"You speak contradictions and know nothing of the world. You who pretend, who plays the mystic. One does not threaten the one who comes in visions; fighting a dream is nonsense. What would you gain?" Msonus says. "And yet you brandish a stick, a trinket prepared with the most ridiculous of statements."

An eye pops into existence. "I will open your eyes."

As the man falls, trying to soften his scream of terror, he points the stave in Msonus's general direction. Msonus feels rather than sees a blast of massive power hit him, and he stumbles back. He is paralysed for a moment, and when he recovers the high priest is still experiencing visions of intense horror, but Msonus feels.. weaker, somehow. As if he had been robbed.

"Betrayer..." Msonus whispers, and though he is unsure what the stick had done, but does not like it either way. Quickly, he holds out a hand again, and his third eye flares for just a moment. The other two eyes seem to dull in comparison, and his fingertips spread apart in a five-pointed spread. With a slight screaming noise, the air seems to ripple about his hand.

A flash of purple, and Msonus retaliates.

The retaliation was enough.

A cough - blood - and the High Priest lay dead, a martyr for his cause. Msonus felt the stolen energy return to him, saw the blasting rod crumble and rust. The High Priest lay still, the  deadly force still ripping through his spirit.

Msonus walks over to the corpse silently, looking at the ruined rod.

"Are there others who wish to attempt the murder of their Mystic?" Msonus asks, without turning around. An eye pops, and another, and they look around instead. The god himself continues to simply stare at the man who had seemingly planned such an attack for some time, with such a rod engraved as it was.

There was none willing to harm their God. None here, anyway.

"Well then, is someone going to clean up the mess here?" Msonus says cheerily. He seems to have moved on very quickly. Or perhaps he really is just insane.

 "What can you tell me of this one's teachings" the god says, gesturing at the corpse. By now he turns to look at the people with his face, the supplementary eyes spinning around to the back to stat

No one answered. How could they? They'd already invoked the wrath of their God once.. a second time would be truly disasterous. No one had the nerve to answer, except..

"He.. he wasn't from here," said the guide, the outcast. "He came.. from somewhere else. Lord."

"An outsider," Msonus says, looking back at his guide. "I suppose that you all are rather frighted. Remember though, that this man was he who threatened me. You all have no fear of such retaliation. Did your sight not return to you? I am forgiving as well. I shall ask you again:"

"What can you tell me of this one's teachings?"

"He preached that their was no true God, only reflections from something he called the Astral; this Astral, as he referred to it, was everything that existed within our subconscious minds.. only be training and meditating rigorously could we achieve 'Msonus', or the perfect state of non-being, where the fallacies of the universe are revealed.."

The guide looked a little scared.

Msonus either doesn't notice the fear, or doesn't seem to care.

"An intriguingly sane and civilized doctrine from one so brutish. Nevertheless, does it not seem a bit ambitious to try to reveal the fallacies of the universe? It is not only form the concrete and the true that we learn. Still, I see no harm in meditation and thought, and all are free to continue to whatever degree they choose. Simply, I should ask that as Mson you recognize that you are born of Msonus. Keep the three eyes open, truly open, and you shall find truth and reward."

He pauses, and changing to a cheery tone, says, "Now, we shall need to decide who shall take up this new position... and we shall need to let the other Mson know of my coming."

"I think it is right for me to become the next High Priest," said a robed man - one who'd been close to the traitor. "I was closest to the ideals of Marvius, and I was his greatest student. I can guide the people. Let me, Lord, be your guide."

"I have but one guide," Msonus says with certainty. He turns to face the priest.

"And if you were closest to the ideals of this one," he says as he gestures to the corpse,  "then how shall I know you are not closest to the idea of murdering me? "

"Therefore, I think it is best we establish something more communal. Something safer for dreamers. A single mind is not space enough for the wanderings of a thousand unconsciouses."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:35, Mon 05 Oct 2009.

The wannabe High Priest smiles thinly. "With me, I think it is clear, at the helm. Do not worry, Lord, I will whip the people into shape."

Msonus raises an eyebrow.

"Oh? Whip them into shape?" he echoes questioningly. "Shall we hear some detail, or do you presume that your proximity to a dead man is enough to prove your worthiness?"

"I... Lord!" claimed the would-be High Priest. "You know I would never attempt upon your life. Never would I dream! Forgive me if you sensed any aggression.. I serve only you, my Lord. Only you."

He was bowing, now, prostrating himself to Msonus.

Msonus speaks again, and though his words are clearly a response, he looks and sounds more as if talking to himself:
"How strange. I don't recall saying anything like that. In fact, one would find such a response to questions about qualifications rather strange. Perhaps I don't mind that. Of course, you seem to be deriving an interesting sort of meaning from words, so I suppose I shall let you go on until you continue with the detail requested. "

"I.. Lord? I don't understand, Lord. Have I done wrong?"

The High Priest had a look of extreme concern on his face. It was almost comical.

"You appear to be thick, so I shall ask a third time, and since your mind is easily distracted, will say nothing else" Msonus says, pausing to smile mockingly.

"Tell me what it is about you that I should let you lead my people."

"I am the smartest and the fittest to rule. This much, Lord, is obvious."

He spat the words out.

"Yes, yes" Msonus says, sounding slightly tired. He looks around the room, calling,

"Well, are there others who would like to put for their candidacy?"

There was a rush of hands and cries of 'yes'. Everyone wanted an opportunity to become the High Priest.

"Ah, is that so... Well, here is my proposal. I am going out. You shall have as much time as it takes for me to return to determine who shall become the  new leader, or leaders, in whatever system you may devise. I only leave two conditions: The first is that whatever system is devised answers to your God, Msonus. The second is merely that I will be watching in my absence, and it would do you well to consider that. The position of leader will never be a glorious one, and you see the consequences of improper behavior in this one lying on the floor."

Msonus creates a series of eyes, and leaves them ringed around the room to watch the proceedings.

"Now, if you try to kill each other, or do something unpleasant like that, I shall be very disappointed in you. Don't try it. "

He turns, and starts to leave. As he does, he looks back at the guide. "It is up to you if you wish to remain and take part, or come to guide further."

In Msonus's absence, there is much squabbling and bickering among the people. They curse each other, and friendships are tarnished. Heeding their Lord's warning, however - and remembering his terrible power - there is no bloodshed.

Soon, the people come to a decision: if Msonus will allow it, it is best that he choose the next High Priest without interference in any way from them. Let it be shown that the instincts of their Lord is greater than any argument.

Msonus returns as the decision is made, having been able to monitor from afar. Once he hears them explain what they have decided, he pauses for a moment, as if thinking.

"So, the decision is... me. Isn't this a wondrous day, when the head can ask the hands and the feet who shall rule the rest, and, ever faithful, the limbs give control back to where it has always been?

Little fingers and toes, here is my verdict, then, or perhaps it is your verdict, if you have so chosen it. I shall be my own High Priest. Such a position is unnecessary when that divine with which communication is sought is present, whether in me or in your head. I should prefer me, but your heads have quite a capacity as well. "

The Mystic God seems to pause with this thought, as if he had stumbled upon something else. When he speaks again, however, it is unclear how planned this speech is, as his tone and words conflict again.

"Such a capacity might as well go to use, with all of you. An Msonus such as me need not bother with the daily logistics of leading. Such duties will be divided amongst qualified individuals, yet major decisions shall go through my own. I will leave my eyes in this place, any may contact me here, or wherever one of my eyes is present if they disagree with their lesser leaders. Of course, one does not petition the spirits merely because of a spilled bowl of water, and so too you shall not bother my infinite eyes with insignificant trifles.

Now then, such a thing has been set, we shall have to find such lesser leaders to appoint. I require volunteers with experience. The desire to participate is discouraged, and the will is necessary.  Mystics, skilled warriors, craftsmen and scholars, if this glorious realm even has them.  You too, Priest; perhaps your ambition will net you a fish yet. And lastly, my guide, my poor, poor guide, you too should come forward. "

Msonus chuckles, as if at a joke.

The guide stepped forward awkwardly. The rest of the crowd stared at their Lord in unabashed fear and uncertainty. The priest, a look of vacant horror in his eyes, tried to stutter something, but failed. They hadn't expected this. None stepped forward.

"Oh, you look so... shocked. Did you not expect the coming of Msonus? Did you not expect that I would be here?

Or perhaps you merely expected I should be different. Expectations, however, were not what was or is needed. No one expects a dream, no one calls for a dream. It comes, yes, as water flows downhill, oh! It comes. Perhaps we need to establish a few things, perhaps change is not all that you fear, and though I do not hope, I might not fault you if you did...

And my oh my, what freedom you shall experience, when there is less to be forbidden and more to be dreamed of. After all, what is a mystic?" Msonus says. As usual he speeds up and slows down throughout his speech, sometimes swaying as if moving with some unheard melody to his strange speech.

"But dear, how many words have I spewed? Does a mountain change in one day? Perhaps it should. "


Msonus, seeming to remember something, looks at the guide he had called up. "But my, if none of you have the will to step forwards, so be it. My chosen guide shall share his guidance with you as well, and in return this one, the 'priest' will share his guidance back to our guide. As I truly care for your more productive wishes, I am willing to give such a leadership format a try. After all, you selected it, did you not?"

There was a silence.. and then an outraged cry from the crowd: "Him? .. him? He is a fool!"

For a supposedly mystically advanced folk, they were boorish and a little thuggish.. boos and cries assaulted the God, and Msonus saw the tears streaming from the face of his guide. Something was thrown.. a candle. It hit the guide, and he fell, staggering.

Msonus calmly steps in front of the guide, and removes the sight of all in the room again. He is frowning.

"It appears I have made too much judgement of you. You have all lost the right to see, being completely uncivilized, without any useful emotions, thoughts or purposes, and you, lacking society, shall answer to me and me alone. Those of you who truly do not deserve this, though there are few if any, may blame the brutes for your fate.

I tried to be kind, open, and you repeatedly stomp over the trust that I give you. "

He looks at his guide, the only one whose sight he left. "I am sorry. Please, we may go now."

"I..." said the guide. "Lord.. I cannot do this. I am not strong enough. They are right! I am a fool!"

The crowd, though pacified, still called roughly.

Msonus speaks to the guide, ignoring the masses again.

"I was wrong to have rushed this on you, but I doubt that you are a fool. For one, you have not shown such brutish behavior as these, and, moreover, you have managed to survive without the aid of the rest of society. Indeed, with the scorn of it instead. "

He walks with the guide to the doorframe, "And regardless, I do value your advice. Perhaps I have not valued your wishes so much, however. Please, what do you wish?"

"I.." the guide seemed to think for a moment. "My wish is to serve you, my Lord. My wish .. is to make you proud. If you wish for me to be your guide.. I will.. I will be your guide."

"A bold choice," Msonus says. "And one that makes me proud."


Msonus spawns a number of eyes, setting them up in and around the temple area. He also creates four more, and sends them in the four cardinal directions to get a rough idea of what lay beyond. "The people have much to learn, but I fear pushing too much on them is dangerous as well; As a pair I wish for us to begin to explore our lands, while we let a little bit of personal development occur for those in the temple.

Tell me, how far have you seen outside of the inhabited area?"

"Very little, Lord," said the guide. "We are encouraged not to leave our temple, or the area around our temple.. not to explore the outside.."

"Typical," Msonus says. "Just a moment, and the eyes shall start what we shall travel."

He focuses on the recently popped eyes, trying to see what lay, in general, in the four directions he had sent them. He is also keeping an eye on the templegoers, but doesn't particularly care what they do as long as nothing surprising is happening.

The templegoers are rather placid. It has been a long day. They were scared, a little angry, traumatized, in awe.. but, for the moment, too shocked to attempt any surprises.

The four eyes began the long exploration of Som.

As Msonus waits for the eyes to travel enough to give him a rough idea of which direction to start in, he idly begins to pop more and more eyes to follow them and spread out, so as to create a truly invasive system of watching the realm.

Mostly, however, he just waits.

The entire exploration of the Realm, at this rate, would take two hours. Would Msonus like to wait?

Msonus does indeed wait.

He sees many wondrous things..

To the West, he sees a great plain filled with rain.. as the eye gets closer, he is startled to find that it isn't rain, but instead was an upside-down lake, hovering ten feet above the land.. watery snakes - rivers - spun out from it at certain points and landed upon the ground, possibly creating the bizarre rivers the existed in Som. In the center of the field, underneath the lake - beneath the swimming of purple fishes and stranger things - were a series of steps, which one could use to enter the lake's embrace.

To the North a great temple, easily fifteen times the size of the temple where Msonus met his guide, made of silver and gold. The doors were locked, but adorned with images of demons, lions, spirits, angels, chimera, heroes.. all being fought, it seemed, by a tall man with a staff made of blades. The grounds about the temple were immaculate. The palace had a strange, lonely feel about it, as if the entire place was the house of a single man..

To the East, the eye comes upon a large metal circle - a door, it seems - built into the ground, the words ALL WELL IS HELLWELL engraved upon its face. This door seems hauntingly familiar to Msonus.. and he notes that it is made out of the strange black iron that his shattered tower had been crafted of. It seemed that there was no key to the round door, and no obvious way of opening it. Maddeningly curious.

Finally, to the South was a field made of statues. The field - a massive work of art easily a hundred kilometers wide - contained possibly five thousand of these, and the statues themselves mimicked life in a disturbingly accurate way. They showed soldiers, magicians, generals, Somites, enemies, vicious beasts.. all engaged in a vicious battle which may, Msonus feels, may have actually occurred at some point in time.

Msonus looks at his guide, thinking on what he has just seen. Finally he speaks:

"Ah, what a glorious diversity reality produces; why it is more than one could dream of?

So, shall we head to the north then? I have seen a house I would very much like to see, if you will join me."

If the guide accompanies him, Msonus sets a brisk pace, walking as directly as possible and only stopping when the guide absolutely had to.

"Of course, my Lord."

It took a few hours, but they soon reached the outer walls of the palace-temple. Roughly five feet high, and made of heavy stone, at certain points about the wall there were iron gates with sharp spikes at their top. Within, Msonus knew, were fabulous gardens, clear fields, pools of the purest waters, mysteriously fantastic  woodlands..

Msonus stands at one of the gates, and, sending a few more eyes over to keep watch, shouts out, "Hello, you who is living here!"

Not particularly expecting any sort of answer, Msonus also knocks on the gate politely, as if knocking on someone's front door.

There was no answer.

The gates did not open.

No being came to meet Msonus.

Perhaps no one was home?

"It seems no one is home, dear guide," Msonus says, stating the obvious.

"Perhaps it is time to try a bit of dreaming... If one could call it as such. You can, you know. But anyways, I suppose it would be good if you kept an eye out for me, as it were. he goes on, sitting down. He starts to concentrate, or at least his eyes close, and a smile appears on his face. His hands suddenly clench and release, his fingers twisting around into strange patterns and odd gestures.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:43, Fri 16 Oct 2009.

(Yeah, the portal thing is fine : ) )

Msonus is a Thaumaturge, and thus such a feat of time magic would be easy enough to cast. Almost below him. He knew now what he needed.. flat, still water to gaze within, to awaken the mind's eye.. an hour of sleep, to symbolise the coming into darkness.. a counting to sixty, so that time would be obeyed..

"Yes, my Lord," said the guide. "We shall dream.."

"Ah, but first we need to find that which reflects, in order that we too may reflect."
Msonus lacks the means to create such a pool on the spot, and uses his eyes to try to search one out. If he finds one:

Msonus gazes into the pool, closing the rest of his eyes so that he could watch and absorb the pool's stillness. As an hour passes the god begins to slowly fall asleep. He is at rest for an hour when his mind begins to rouse itself. The god seems eerily awake and asleep at the same time as he begins to count aloud.

"One...

Two...

Three..."

He goes on slowly, in a dream-like voice, reaching up to sixty and invoking the ritual's power over time.

Once he has counted to sixty Msonus remembers the dream he'd had while asleep, a mysteriously lucid thing..

It started a nightmare. Experiments on the living. Scalpels, needles, strange liquids, vials, things that shambled, the drink that crushes dreams.. the man behind it all. Manic. Unable to accept God, a god, a God, any god or creator or being.. a genius, a master philosopher, beaten by his own philosophy, taken by it, a slave..

The League of Divine Right. Before the Conclave, before.. war, war, war.. spiders crushed, humans spiked, dead bodies.. nuclear weapons.. "Interesting," said the Man of Science, "Nuclear.." .. he is bought by the League, bought bought bought to design something greater, greater than the weapon that could turn men into ash and stone into glass..

The League falls.

He flees.

Stumbles, abandons his sick experiments.. flies through the heavens.. reaches the Hills, yes, where the simple superstitious folk won't bother him.. fools, simpletons, idiots.. don't they understand? He's into magnetic theories now.. make a God cry with pain.. not Divine, but a divine culture!.. not immortal at all.. built the manor, the gardens, the walls, the gate..

The gate.

Msonus was back, back to reality. He'd seen the nightmare, and knew it was a thing of the past; clairvoyance. He knew the magic had worked.

"Fantastic..." Msonus says quietly. He returns with the guide to the gate, and helps him in setting up camp.

"I think, perhaps, it is time for you to dream as well; it has been a long day, and there is much to contemplate. Moreover, I need to share things with you, things easier told through your sleep."

If the guide falls asleep, Msonus observes his dreams; when the guide has dreamt long enough, he adds a dream of the vision that he had, prefacing it with a smiling Msonus proclaiming, "It is obvious enough that real dreams are not like what will come now... this is reality, friend. Was, rather. "

When the guide awoke the first thing he did was keel over and retch.

"My lord.." he said, pale, as he turned back up. "I feel so.. it was so.. horrible!"

"I know, I know..." Msonus says. "And yet, this one lives here... Perhaps we shall see him later, and perhaps, if it is possible, we shall allow ourselves some sort of relationship. Come, we have more to explore, when you are ready. The next stop, I believe, shall be a bit more fantastic. It is as a dream in reality, as opposed to the reality in a dream I just gave you."

As the guide begins to settle down, Msonus leads him towards the upside down lake. There he gingerly begins to step towards the opening.

The guide gasps when he sees the hovering lake. "Lord! It is beautiful!"

Beneath the lake is rain, those non-sorcerous droplets falling to the ground, turning soil into mud. If they wished to enter the center of the thing, they would have to get drenched - but perhaps , if they wished to enter the lake, that wasn't such a problem.

Msonus smiles and nods, laughing a little. It was indeed beautiful.

"I am going to try going inside," he says, gesturing towards the open space. "Yet I do not know how comfortable you are with water. If you wish, you may stay here. Here." Msonus creates an eye, placing it watching the guide, so that he can keep an eye on the guide even as he goes into the water.

With that, Msonus removes his shirt, folding it inexplicably neatly, and begins to walk into the space. He seems almost waiting for the drenching that would come, looking slightly up and holding arms just a little bit outstretched.

The guide did not come. He could not hold his breath for as long as Msonus.

The God of Mysticism was soon thrown into the twirling waters, and his mind was immediately assaulted.

WHO DARES ENTER THE MOUTH?

It was a booming thing.. there was something alive within the lake, something horrible..

Msonus finds himself amidst waters. And though there is little to speak with while underneath water, the god both tries to speak with his mouth and also with his mind. He is confused, defiant and aloof at once, the strangely capricious mix of emotion that was almost typical of Msonus' manner (if there were such a thing as typical for him at all).

"The God of Mysticism, of Dreams does not dare! He merely is, and I merely am! "

A dozen or so eyes stream out, pushing through the torrents of water and searching for something, anything, that would be the source of such a presence. They spread out in a vague pattern of searching.

Msonus is thrown around the powerful topsy-turvy currents within the lake with such force that he is soon out breath. As he is flung about - the eyes unable to see anything except fearful fish - a dark thought enters his mind. What if.. what if the lake was sentient? The entire creature.. was the floating watermass?

"Lake," Msonus suddenly shouts with both word and thought. "I am God of this realm, and I come merely seeking to know what, or perhaps now it is who, you are. For water such as yours seems to be as a dream, and as a dream exists with meaning so too must you. I ask that you lay me safely, and perhaps we can learn what we hope from each other. "

Msonus, Divine as he was, was still running out of breath.. in a few minutes, five or six, he'd drown.

GOD OF THIS REALM?

NO.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

I AM GOD OF THIS REALM

i am

I AM GOD OF THIS REALM!

A surge of force hit Msonus, and he felt one of his ribs break as he was thrown around again..

"I am god of some realm, and I am here, waters. I claim not rulership, but my divinity is undeniable. "

Msonus lets loose a blast of spirit rending energy, though he knows not at what. It shoots out in any direction at all, for he aims at the water and the water is all around him. Perhaps, as strange as it may be.

The energy crackled, and there was a deafening roar from within the waters, and suddenly Msonus is pushed up - hard - and thrown high into the air. As he descends, he might pause to reflect on how much this was going to hurt. He could the hills below him, trees tiny specks..

When he hit the ground, both legs were shattered, and his left arm was snapped broken. Besides this, he was grazed and in an incredible amount of pain..

Msonus saw the upside-down lake-being in the distance. He could not see the guide.

As Msonus lies broken, he moans to himself. With a feeble wave of his right arm, more eyes pop into existence, and spread out in the direction of the lake-creature. They look for the guide, as well as for anything else about the monster.

As for the god himself, he tries to what knowledge of healing he had to cast a spell that would help his wounds heal.

Msonus, being a Thaumaturge, would have been able to heal himself easily.. but his basic understanding of Life magic meant that while he knew how to perform the magical operation, he didn't even know where to start. Muttering a little, he said a small incantation to negate some of the pain and to hurry along the heal process, but he couldn't fully recover himself - yet.

The Eyes report that the hovering lake levitates about, as if it is a slow-moving leviathan, and they spot the guide.. drowning, it seemed, within the thing.

Msonus, broken, is unable to rush over to the guides aide, but his intense devotion to his favorite mortal proves to bring something out within him. Dragging himself forwards from his broken position, he holds his hands up high and begins casting another spell. Yet, instead of bringing forth magics of the defined types, Msonus finds himself using a stranger art instead. With no real heed to his means, lacking time for a proper ritual, he calls upon any force, any force at all, that can help his guide. His hands wave in familiar patterns, but it is clear he is mainly going through motions: this sort of magic is like holding a net and hoping that a butterfly comes in. Oh, but what a butterfly he needs now.

"Oh forces beyond, within and without, above, below," he cries out, tears literally starting to form on his face at his own uselessness to save his own guide. All three eyes are glowing slightly purple as he looks in the direction of the lake and his poor, poor guide. The god seems so emotional it is almost hard to tell that he is not faking, and yet a mindreader would clearly know that this was no facade of sadness.

"I beg you,

truly beg you to save a humble guide... Oh, my guide... oh, oh...."

Time seemed to stand still.

Msonus could hear his own heart beating rapidly.. could hear the roaring of the lake.. could hear his own sobs, and the choking of his guide.. could hear thunder above..

Everything stopped.

Msonus couldn't blink, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything -

A man appeared in front of him, and Msonus was free.

"I am the Hierophant," claimed the man, speaking forcefully, "And it is I you have called. Tell me, little godling, what is you desire?"

The call had worked.

((Oh wow NAT nice!!! Okay just wanted to say Msonus...kiss his ass or else! Okay, I'm scutling back away from the thread now. Carry on!))

Shocked that his play had succeeded in attracting the attention of a real being and struck with awe, Msonus bows his head in the presence of The Hierophant. He takes a deep breath before speaking quietly to the primordial. Though his voice does not quiver with fear, it seems to lack a bit of the playfulness usually present. Sensing that his own identity was largely irrelevant, he forgoes an introduction, replacing it with his bow instead.

"Forgive my asking, but it is not on my own behalf that I hoped for your arrival," he says, looking even further down for a moment. He looks up now, not directly at the Hierophant, but not at the ground anymore. "I called and hoped that one would come.. but for the sake of my guide. I have let him into danger and I, broken, have let him be swallowed by such a creature as this lake. What a divinity am I, that cannot save the one who I truly call my follower? And so, as I have failed him, I turn upwards further, to you. Oh my guide, poor, poor guide.

Would you not let me receive for him your aid?"

"I can give him my aid. The mortal shall be spared. Tell me, though," said the Hierophant, "What would you pay to see the mortal free? These - wishes - they do not come lightly."

Msonus saw the Hierophant's hawkish features, his obsessive flaming eyes, the rigid lines of his face..

"I have little material worthy of either the gratitude I would have or the might of one such as yourself. And I can think of few tasks that I could accomplish that you could not," Msonus says, bowing slightly again, looking down, away from the firey eyes and harsh angles of the Primordial's face.

"Yet I do know of one thing, that which the Primordials have given all the gods, the one thing I truly have that can be given... And though it is insignificant and small, it is also full of the possibilities that have been put into it...

If you should save the life of my guide, I... I give you one of my lives. For in my minor nature, I can think of nothing else that I have to offer than my very being itself, if such a thing is even worth that. Surely it is of little consequence to a greater being, yet to me my life is, naturally, my own, and thus I hope that the relative payment shall suffice. I only should ask one further thing if I offer this to you:

that you keep it well. "

Msonus bows fully now, all three eyes closed.

"I will keep your life," said the Hierophant. "Until your soul is once again scattered, entirely, to the four winds you will meet my cause - and that cause is life. You will serve the World-Tree, Yggdrasil, for your talents are needed. You will not work against it, for that will mean your immediate demise."

Of course, the Primordial had taken the Mystic God's word rather surprisingly - Msonus was to dedicate his being towards the thing, his 'life's work', instead of a single life. Regardless..

"You have been marked," said the Hierophant, "And you will continue to mark. I thank you, Msonus."

With that, he was gone. Msonus felt a hideous pain manifest upon his chest, and - to his weird delight - saw that an image of Yggdrasil, the World-Tree, had been tattooed there. It took up most of his torso in red and black ink.

The upside-down lake was gone. In it's place, a simple, normal lake, glittering beautifully in the light.

The guide was spluttering next to Msonus, wet but unharmed.

Msonus is strangely elated, and almost immediately hugs the guide.

"I am sorry, that I let you into the creature so. That I bring you trouble so. "

The guide, drenched, could only sob in return.

"Lord - I - I thought -"

The lake was beautiful in the distance.

"Please... I am not fitting to be Lord, not to you, " Msonus says, sitting back now. "I am only glad that you are alright, and that is all I may say. In the future I shall not let my carelessness harm another.

Ah, but look! In calling for you I have found another thing!"

He shows the mark, which the guide had no doubt seen by now anyways.

"This.." the guide is bewildered by the Yggdrasildic tattoo. "Lord.. friend, my friend.. who marked you like this? Is this the price you paid for mt stupidity?"

"Not your stupidity, and not a price, exactly. An agreement, perhaps, and the bargain given is not too bad at all, for you are here and unharmed. "

Msonus rubs the tattoo, as if getting used to his new skin.

"But we should get a move on, I believe. There is more yet to come, if we should aim to find all that there is to find here one day. Nevertheless, I promised you such things would not happen again; I suppose I should show some intelligence for a change. Here, please take these. "

Msonus bends down, picking up a few stones. He holds them in his hands and his eyes flash purple. "Throw these at a foe."

The guide holds these stones as if they were sacred, holy relics. In a way, they were.

"Thank you, Lord. I will not use them unless.. unless I am forced."

Msonus nods, saying "A wise statement, my guide. Come now, there are some statues that I want to investigate."


He pushes himself up from his broken position again, but is unable to attempt standing up. Looking at himself, he sighs.

 "Ah, I am forgetting that I too am limited by broken bones, Divne or not. I don't suppose I could ask you to carry me, so we shall be waiting. "

Looking miserable once again, he begins to use the limited healing he knows to try to speed up the process, or at least ensure the bones healed properly.

Msonus was a Thaumaturge, one of the adept sorcerers of the land; in addition, it was his own body.. as the guide picked him up and began to carry him towards the statues. Soon - within two hours - Msonus had fully healed his wounds and was able to walk by himself without any pain.

By the end of the second hour, he was exhausted, but physically able once more.

Msonus motions for the guide to put him down, and stands of his own accord.  He pauses to look at his surroundings, an eye popping out, spinning around and then shooting off towards the statues.

"Truly you are a Guide like no other, to remain with me so," he says, looking at the guide. " Come, shall we rest, and in the morning we shall reach our destination with the dawn? "

"I think so, Lord," said the guide, smiling. "I fear, however - I apologize - but I did not bring the proper equipment.."

"Equipment? We need no tools to merely sleep, in the most natural of ways. Come, we shall find ourselves a suitable place, 'equipment' of the land. "

Msonus looks around for a place suitable to rest. He picks whatever location seems most accommodating, but lets the Guide have the final say in campsite, Once they set up, and eventually go to sleep, Msonus watches the Guide's dreams without interfering.

They found a comfortable spot, under a great tree, and soon the guide was asleep.

He dreamt about water - about drowning - about his Lord who would betray him and kill him - about things beyond the ken -

Msonus takes a break from dreamwatching to rest himself a bit under the tree. He is tired too, after all, and desires dreams to wrap himself in.


When the pair awake, and have both gotten ready, Msonus leads the way towards the statues. "This one, I think, will be more excitement," he says. He pauses, before adding slowly, "Though I suppose the nightmare is more exciting than the dream..."

"Lord, this place - it scares me," said the guide, when they had entered the hills bordering the statues. "The statues are too well sculpted - too real."

"Too real... My suspicion, friend, is that they are indeed real. Or were. Perhaps they are what was, perhaps they are reflections.

Come, let us find ourselves a pool; I am going to have to try to delve the pasts again," Msonus says. His eyes appear, and fan out looking for a suitable surface to perform the ritual on once again.

Msonus soon came upon a flat pool of water, hidden between two eery stone soldiers.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:28, Sun 08 Nov 2009.

Msonus sets up eyes behind him, asks the guide to serve as a watchman, and steps up to the pool.

He stares deep, watching the reflection, and begins the ritual he had used once before. The pool was an appropriate vessel for reflection, and soon enough he drifts off for an hour of sleep. After a strangely smooth awakening,  Msonus reaches the counting portion. His voice is more confident than last time as he begins.


"One...

Two...

Three..."

A dream descends upon the mystic.

A rebel cause rises - great engineers, arcane mathematicians, architects all - they feel and know that their destiny is to thwart those that had spat at them, cast them out, ridiculed and exiled their master - rage against those who would mock the most sacred of texts - the shattered tower -

And a creature that can turn men to stone.

A battle - war - against the wishes of their master, the rebels fight - the Architects done their battle dress - struck as they were, found by the Leagues - and a creature that can turn men to stone.

They all became rock, then, imperialists and rebels alike.

Msonus mutters to himself,"Horror of horrors, again the past comes to teach. "

"Come, my friend, guide. Sit with me, and I shall try further magicks... Perhaps you can observe, begin to learn while I attempt. If you wish."


He sits down, and holds his palms up as he tries to use Shamanism to call upon older spirits from this area.

(OOC: You're a Thaumaturgist. You may abjure any enchantment whose spell that you have a basic or deep understanding in. If you don't, or it's not a Royal Tradition enchantment, simply being a Thaumaturgist gives you a damn good idea of how to go about doing so.)

A spirit - the eldest, a shambling, rotting tree-thing with a thousand eyes and gaping jaws - wanders towards Msonus.

"Looooord.." it whispers.

"Ah, welcome, friend," Msonus says to the spirit. He holds out an arm, as if offering to shake hands.

"Talking is of little consequence, though perhaps later I would like to. I would have you help me with that which was, if you will lend me your strength?"

If the spirit is willing, Msonus will try to add his magical strength with the spirit's own strength. He will use the combined strength to attempt to unravel the stone-form of the Architects present on the battlefield if possible. He will first start with just one, however.

There is.. a price.. to pay..

The spirit seemed to be asking for payment.

Msonus nods. He looks at the spirit, trying to decide what would be suitable.
 "There always is, isn't there.

In return for your aid, I will create for you a shrine in the location of your choosing, dedicate it to your power."

A change.. shift.. in the Lord of Water.. in the fearful one.. a change.. a taming.. a shrine to be built - there..

It was eager.

"The Lord of Water... Tamed? Do you speak of that place where I have just been?

Yes, I believe that can be done, I have dreamed there I believe. And so I promise this in payment. " Msonus says. "Shall we begin, then?"

Yes..

Msonus felt his spiritual strength be reinforced and multiplied as the spirit worked in tandem with him.

"Take cover in your soul, friend Guide, and feel."

The Mystic closes his eyes for a moment, and reopens them suddenly: they shine with a bright purple glow. Feeling the strength coursing into him, Msonus raises his hands into the air. He could weave this power that worked with him now, he could feel it, an ally ancient to undo the webs of the past. One alone was simple play now, he wanted more. And though perhaps his knowledge of magic indicated that great shows of noise and movement were not necessary to magic, they were, in their own way, a magic of their own. A quiet wind begins to stir, a motion without moving.

"And together we find the points," he says quietly, reaching his hand to an unseen strand in the air before him and grabbing at it. He tugs, hard, and suddenly begins to shift his hands before suddenly falling still. Motion returns slowly, pulsing. "And the points are soft, flexible. Push, pull, the rhythm of a dream working."

He begins to speed up, an urgency driving him from sentence to phrase with words serving double duty, an unclear overlap like a manic song. "" A new change to an old shift and those who fought return to the flesh the hardened"

He stands, and looks at the battlefield. Picking out the Architects in his mind's eye, he blinks the third eye again, and lets out a primal scream as it opens: a thousand images flash, of each stone form before him. "I break, with your hand around mine we smash! And lo! Behold! Break, break, break!"

Msonus closes his eyes, and lets the magical energy flow.

(OOC: Are you Abjuring only the magic that holds your Architects?)

((OOC: If he has enough fine control, yes.))

It takes a long while. The sun set; rose; set again. It seemed like only a short moment to Msonus. The guide spent most of his time studying the statues, meditating, reading, sleeping.

After a few days had passed, there was a cracking sound. The magic stopped flowing. Msonus fell to the ground, extremely weak.

When he awoke, there were faces looking at him. Old faces. Familiar faces..

"Lord Architect? Lord - what happened?"

Msonus pants, drawing deep breaths between his words. Nonetheless, he tries to look happy as well, showing a half-smile before he speaks.

"I came... I saw... I broke..." he says, gesturing around him.  He slowly gets up, and a few eyes pop and rise above, to scan the battlefield. "You... tell me... what else...

I am but a reawakened dream, or perhaps I am but a reawakened dreamer. "

A few eyes - not as many as Msonus had tried to conjure - appeared, and showed the Mystic that many beasts, men, and stranger things were still trapped in stone.. but a hundred or so ancient Architects had finally been free.

A few of them stumble about the field.

"Lord Architect.." they gasp. "What sorcery is this, that can turn all to stone?"

"I wot not, save that there has been a creature that can turn men to stone. While you have been stone, I have been nought, and together we must work to fill in what was, " Msonus says. "My guide, please come, speak freely, for your people are the third piece, that which fills the void between. Together, the three experiences, we shall form a tapestry from the dreams of narratives.

What I know of this battle, first, is little, and that which led to it less still. Memories are hazy yet, dreams. Perhaps you could begin there."

"Tales tell of a strange war," said the guide, quite disturbed by the unleashing of the Architects. "A war between the Hand of Law and the Free Eye.. between freedom and control."

"'The right to mystical epiphany should be given to all'," quoted one of the Architects, the others nodded, and Msonus recognized his own writing - from An Eye to the Heavens.

"'Every man and every woman is a star'," said another, but Msonus did not immediately recognize this quote.

"He's right.." said a gruff warrior-Architect. Msonus remembered a name - Bastus - and the fact that he was a commanding soldier. "We were setting operations in Som, Lord Architect, when we were attacked upon by Ayarian soldiers. They, fortunately, are still stuck in stone.. but they had brought with them a creature of cold cunning and great power, a Cyclopean cockatrice - easily several buildings tall - whose gaze quickly ruined us all.."

"And yet, it is the Hand of Law that are stoned of their own creature. The bee did always buzz too loud, too strangely.

Does the chicken remain?" Msonus says, quietly looking upwards.  "Or has it seen its own as well?

No matter, there are more than dreams to be dreamed. Times are changed, and we as well, I am afeared. Friend Bastus, what of other Architects? Were all here, dreaming? Or did some figment lie elsewhere?"

Bastus looked at the Lord Architect concerned.

"We had a fortress in the Far West, towards the Edging Mountains, and a small base in Istanghaast.. several prominent Architects are also members of the Founic League and hold dual-oaths.."

"A line can be broken, I'm afraid. Forgive my memory," Msonus says. He looks up, and holding a hand forth, pops a pair of eyes, sending one back west and one further among the statues. He checks back on the eyes that he had left with the temples as he looks at the gathered Architects. "Then, I believe we should begin to move. There is much to be confused, but a promise has been made, and a promise shall be upheld. We move to the west, and north. Hurry slowly. "

He points back towards the way he and the guide had come. There lay the lake, and there was a shrine to be built. As they walk, he talks with Bastus and the guide, or rather at them. His voice is quiet, and it seems he speaks as much to himself as to anyone else.

 "There are many thoughts here. Bastus, my guide, I speak to you both. The leagues are not, as they were, and yet the family remains without the family members. Does it not strike as strange? I see my words, and I know them, and yet I know not the stories that brought them. I work to trace, and yet to trace is to waste time, waste ink. It is a strange dilemma, for to learn from mistakes is to avoid them the next time, but if the next is the first... where does this leave the next? But though this is a repetition, this is not a repetition. And where does this leave the Tree? There are two villages, and the flow of goods must come freely, but does it? Have the wagons stopped? Or merely gone underground? Have they too changed?" He stops rambling, and speaks directly to the pair now." On the one, you are a creature of experience,  and the other, you of potential. But each has the other, for you have always potential, and you experiences of your own.

What dreams do I spew? What dreams do you?"

The guide was confused; Bastus was alarmed.

"How long - how long, Lord, have we slept in stone? The Leagues.. are they truly gone?"

"Quite long, quite long," Msonus says. "The wheel has turned; my own is reborn, but yours were halted. There is so much to be done, Bastus. So much, but so much has gone on without us...

We live, we learn. We dream, and we hope we awake when time calls us. "

"We have awoken, Lord," said Bastus. "Hopefully to a world freed of the tyranny of the Leagues.. freed of their oppression and their subtle violence."

As they continue to travel, Msonus continues the conversation:

"It is not so, Bastus. When the diamonds are removed from the mine, we should not be surprised that all that remains is plain rock and tunnels.

But we are not to concern ourselves with such matters too much. Our goals lead us outside of theirs, even if they think they aim to the same. Yet there is something in there that may overlap. There is no need to dirty any more robes, certainly not for the tyranny of the father. Yet we will watch words, friend. There is much that echoes with the past."

"Oh, Lord?" said Bastus, curiously. "Forgive me  - my wits are still addled. What, exactly, do you mean?"

"Where there had been a League, now there is a Conclave. Different, perhaps, but the same as well. Perhaps worse, or pbetter, depending on views. My memory of generalities and details alike is small, at best, yet there are some things that are clear. The towers stand tall, save one forgotten, but they are empty and forbidden, " Msonus says, continuing to lead towards their destination. "But as I say, the crimes of the League do not warrant trying to punish the Conclave. It would be a dirty and wasteful effort. "

"Perhaps," said Bastus, but he remained unconvinced. "I suppose.. then.. I am to believe - well -"

He was obviously upset.

"Lord, is it true that the rest of the Eleventh lie destroyed, in tatters? That we are all that remain of the Architects?"

"I can truly speak, that I know not. There are no hints of the architects other than yourself, and yet, in and of itself, that seems the greatest hint of all, does it not? It is a point of confusion for all of us, and surely we can all appreciate that meaning is found in the confusion, " Msonus says.

He sends an eye forward, to pick the best place on the shorefront for the construction.

There was a solid place on the shore, made of flat stone and covered only lightly with sand.

"I see," said Balast. "Then, Lord, if you do not need me .. I would request something of you. I wish to seek the Palace of Sight, to see if your most deliberate cult still remains. If this is truly an age of strife, equal to or worse than the time of the Leagues, then we'll need as many allies as we can get."

Msonus loses the dreaminess for a moment, speaking in a surprisingly normal tone once more, "Of course. You are free to go as you will, and your thoughts speak the truth. I agree that you should go, and though I cannot myself join you, I would like to offer a few extra eyes to go with.  <purple>"

He picks up a few stones, and holds them in his hands for a moment, before passing them over. "<purple>An eye in each. Drop it for my sight. And here,"  he says, plucking off a hair and handing it over as well. "Just hold on to this one."

Bastus takes the stone, and the hair.

"I thank you, my lord. It may be a long and deadly journey, but one that I gladly make.. perhaps it is the apotheosis pilgrimage of which you've often spoke. If that is the case, 'may death come too easy and life all too sudden, and always the both shall embrace'."

"Perhaps," Msonus says. He clasps Bastus' hand. "And now, we both have promises to fulfill. Fortune is too little, but may it do with you as it will.  May the Eleventh live long beyond its sight. "

"Thank you, Lord," he said. "I will return."

With that, Bastus left for realms distant.

Msonus pauses for a moment, then turns back to his own task.

He begins to clear the grounds he had spotted out, and with any of the Architects that would help, starts to collect materials. Not being architecturally trained in this set of lifetimes, Msonus sticks to a simple plan. The  shrine is to be a simple house-like structure, with an opening on each end facing towards and away from the lake. The god takes his own time inspecting the rocks and arranging them to form a solid structure from the materials available. In the end, the shrine is surrounded by a small wall of stones.

Still, there are strange touches that are to be expected of Msonus. The roof is deliberately asymmetrical, the openings are lined with mud along the bottom, and Msonus arranges stones at the bottom in a Y-shape. Finally, the mystic takes dry sand, adding it to the left of the Y, splashes water to the left and puts mud in the center.

"And now, friends, I believe a nights dream will serve many purposes, not the least of which is the honoring of the spirit who shall receive this. After a dreamless sleep of stone, your eyes must be hungry...

Soon, the spirit came, seen only by Msonus and his Architects - a shambling, shifting thing, it stared at the shrine from a distance for a long while before finally coming over.

"We are pleased.."

Msonus smiles at the spirit.  "It is pleasure all around, then. It is a difficult thing, the showing of gratitude. I can only hope that our eyes have seen a fitting structure.

And what of you now, elder? "

"I will.. will wait here.. make home.."

The spirit drifted into the temple, to be submerged beneath the earth. It was as simple as that.

Msonus turns back to his followers. "And perhaps we too shall make home? Come, we shall head to the others who live in this realm. Whether they are loyal or not is as much in question as anything, but if they are to see, perhaps we too must look with our eyes.

My guide, it is time we returned to the temples... Is there any that you believe would be most open to Msonus?"


If there is, Msonus will take the Architects there, sending an eye ahead to view the path and the temple. If there is not, Msonus will lead the group to the main temple, the one that he had first had his confrontation. He will look through the eyes he left behind there, to observe what is happening in his absence.

The guide thinks for a small moment.

"There are a small series of Temples who retain the Architect-symbols, even after it was decided you'd left forever. They claim to worship the purest Msonus.. Lord, we could try them."

"It is a start, and a fine one at that. With your lead, then, we shall try," Msonus says. As they begin to travel, he speaks to himself once more:

"Symbols remain... but what of purity? I have never known that which is clean..."

Msonus and the guide come upon the small, rundown temple, a small horde of reawakened Architects behind them. Msonus, however, stops when he notices a strange, yet familiar, symbol on it's door: a single, purple eye surrounded by five objects - a sword, a pen, a stave, a tower and a dagger. He knew what those symbols meant..

The Eye represented mind over matter, the hidden senses, and especially the entire teachings of Msonus. The sword represented the alacrity of the will, and of the fight for enlightenment. The pen represented study and the power of words over perception. The stave represented the necessity for ritual, for only reinforcement could set one on the right path. The tower represented.. something broken, shattered beyond all repair - the remains in the Valley? Finally, the dagger represented the authoritarianism inherent within the mind, and the fact that subtle, subversive measures needed to be taken to free it of its chains..

Five symbols; five fingers; the five lines in a pentagram..

Msonus stops at the door. He smiles, tracing his finger in the air in front of the symbols. "At the least, the symbols remain," he says quietly.

"Do any here live with their eyes open?" he calls out, looking over the temple with curiosity.

A tall, thin, withered man walks out of the gate curiously, gasping in shock when he sees Msonus.

"O Great Architect! I knew you would return!"

He prostrates himself before his Lord.

"And I thank you for knowing, " Msonus says, looking rather delighted. He motions to the man to stand, and as he does, the god bows slightly. "But it seems we are at an imbalance of knowledge, for though you know much of me, I am afraid I know little of your own. "

"I am of Som, and I am one of the remaining high priests of the Symbolist-Purist tradition of the Lord. I might even be the last remaining high priest.. and, unfortunately, my own temple isn't exactly overflowing with worshipers. Forgive me, my Lord. My name is Hardomer, and I am, as far as I can tell, the only Somite to have left these Hills to travel abroad - I am myself a thirteenth degree Architect, the highest a mortal can reach."

The Mystic nods as the old man speaks, looking rather serious. His eyes blink slowly, and he takes a deep breath. And just like that, Msonus suddenly hugs Hardomer.

Smiling, he says, "You know, Hardomer, that I have need to forgive you. Your crimes are none, and your existing delights.

Much is interesting and exciting, and here is the first, old friend of new: you, an Architect have remained here, but look! Here, remained have these Architects! And we shall exist again.

I warn that what is is not what was, and certainly, high priest, we shall have to fill your temple anew. "

Hardomer was weeping with joy. "Thank you, Lord, oh thank you.."

"Come, may we go inside?" Msonus says, motioning for the guide and a portion of the Architects to come inside (if they cannot all fit in). "I should like to hear about the times you have passed."

All the Architects could fit inside; the temple was decrepit yet spacious. It looked like it had been abandoned for some time. Inside the temple, ritual paraphernalia and dusty old tomes were spread out; the mews were dusty, and books often littered the chairs.

"Forgive the, uh, mess.. didn't realize there were any, um, aheh, visitors, Lord.."

"Mess is no matter...

Just how long has it been, Hardomer?" Msonus says, looking about the place.

"A.. while," said Hardomer. "When I left to obtain my Thirteenth Degree, the temple was charged to my one-time apprentice, Fahdf, but he.. he quit the temple and took what little followers I had to form his own church, the Temple of Msonus the Aspect of the Final Word."

"My guide, do you know of such a temple? What is its condition today?" Msonus says.

 He pauses, remembering that he had left the first temple he encountered full of blinded and shocked Mson. He waves a hand, and an eyeball pops out and travels over to that temple, to see how they were now doing.

"Yes, Lord," said the guide. "The Temple of Msonus the Aspect of the Final Word is an initiatory, mysterious sect that very few have been allowed to join since its birth.. besides that, I can tell you nothing, except that the believe your true name to be 'Ray el Liss'. That is the sacred mantra with which they chant in public."

"Blasphemous heretics," Hardomer spat.

The eye travel led to the original temple - it was in a state of debate: demon or saviour? Was it the true Msonus?

"I see. Then we shall begin to act now. Three groups, for three eyes, for three times, for three peoples.

Hardomer, my friend, you are not the only Architect here anymore. Here are those broken from stone, " Msonus says, gesturing to the others.

He speaks to the room as a whole now.  "I ask that a portion of you stay here. My guide, you too shall stay here for the moment. Here you and Hardomer will begin to plan ways of informing the realm of Msonus' arrival. I personally suggest magic, of course, but you know the realm present best.

The remaining, larger portion of you will accompany me to another temple: one where I have already been, one where there is doubt. From there we shall split further."

Msonus pops a few eyes to leave behind in this temple, and then takes his portion of the Architects. They head to join the debate.

"Broken.. from stone..?" Hardomer's eyes widened. He gasped. "Lord of Som! The Ancients.. have been.. I knew it! A miracle, Lord, a true miracle.." He was weeping, now.

"We'll take head here," said one of the Architects. "Don't worry about us, Lord. The mysticism will be restored. Babilu shall be rebuilt."

The trip to the other temple was fairly long, but pleasurable. The sun was shining; it was a good omen. Soon they reached the temple of the non-believers - and by the time they did it was night.

Msonus decides to take the opportunity to give rest to his followers. He finds a suitable location for the group to sleep, arranges watch shifts, and then heads off to satisfy his own curiosity:

As they sleep, he hides himself in a simple illusion. As night falls deeper, he enters the temple to view those who slept there.  He will try to see what sort of things they were dreaming of, these non-believers.

These people dreamed of money; of love; of rail-roads; of destiny; of death; of strange beasts with stranger tongues; the temple had half a dozen or so members trapped in dream within, and none of their dreams were extraordinary.

Msonus turns to slip out of the temple again, but stops for a moment. He takes the opportunity to insert a subtle change into each of the visions, adding none other than his own Eye, purple, disembodied and floating. He makes sure the eye is in a prominent place, and in such a way that it is clearly not naturally within the dream. He decides to add no further changes or messages, and leaves the temple to remain with his camp for the rest of the night.

In the morning, he leads the group to the temple, and there knocks upon the door.

The door is swung open, and Msonu sees a disheveled man blink at him - the high priest of the temple.

"Msonus," he grunts. "Lord. How.. can I assist your grace?"

Msonus knows he is bitter.

"Who are - who are these guests you have brought?"

"Not feeling well? Perhaps a poor nights sleep?" Msonus asks, cheerfully. He does not wait for a reply as he goes on. "I have returned in hopes of getting off to a better start than before.   After all, the last time I was here, an attempted murderer had to be killed. Certainly you needed time to ponder, and I have given it.

And now here I am, with Architects, broken from stone. It is important that we build, you know, and the Architects do more than simply design.

May we come in?"

The man looked at Msonus harshly. "You may enter," he said, finally, "But make sure the others show some damn respect."

"You do tell a funny joke, sir priest, " Msonus says. A few eyes stream ahead of him into the temple, and then he starts to walk in as well. "The Architects will not be the disrespectful ones, if any disrespect is to be given. Now, respectfully, we shall enter.

And have you come to a decision yet? Because we have. "

"I see," said the priest. "What was your decision, then, Grandest Architect?"

"I asked you a question; you do not respond with another. The mocking is hardly necessary towards your God, and bitterness is hardly becoming" Msonus says.

"I do not have an answer to your question," said the priest, now sullen, "For I have forgotten what it is you have asked."

Msonus sighs.

 "If the water knows not its course, it is alright. If the stone knows not which way to fall, it is alright. If the wind knows not from where it blows, it is alright. It is alright, for I am a loving God. In its place I will ask a new one:"

He raises his voice, calling to the whole temple.

"Are you and this temple ready to worship Msonus, God of this realm? Truly worship, with no more of the spite you show. For today it is the Architects that will be built, rather than build. What say you to this?

"

There was a short silence.

"I will worship you," said the High Priest, "And so will the flock. It has just been.. so sudden.. not used to such.."

He trailed off. Msonus saw the Architects smirk.

Msonus nods.

 "It is sudden. Life comes like that.

I would like you to help us in uniting the Hills. But in order to do this, the temples must establish an exchange. Any of your own who are truly devoted to learning of the Mystic are welcome to go with some of these Architects, those Broken from Stone, to join Hardomer. The Architects live on, and this is your invitation to begin to rebuild. A few of the Broken from Stone will remain here, to help your growth, but the majority will be returning to the other Architects: I invite those of you with interest to join them.

Every man and woman is a star.

And I ask, hope, dream, that you who remain here will also find your own way, knowing the joys of dreaming and love for the Mystic. For I return your feelings towards me, and if you show love, then I too shall. " he says, quoting... himself.

"But of course, words are words. I ask now another question: if any of you know of the Aspect of the Final Word, for I seek them out as well.  "

(Nice Crowley reference ;) )

The High Priest of the church shook his head softly, and when he spoke it was with some hesitation. "I will command my brightest to travel to the orthodox Temple and to join Hardomer's flock, my Lord.."

An Architect then spoke up.

"I have read of B'lash, the Eternal Deity of Destruction," he said. "My people, those of Alkan, used to hold him within their Shrine of Nothing. I do not know of the Final Word, however."

((Of course my references consist of just taking the pretty words. ))

"Thank you, my priest. "
Msonus nods.

He begins to head out, telling the Architect, "You will accompany on my hunt, then.

Perhaps we could begin by reading the omens? "

As they talk, Msonus sends eyes to examine the other temples that existed in the area. Perhaps finding another inhabited one would help.

There were roughly sixteen temples in the area. Each one had a clergy, and each clergy had a flock of anywhere between zero (two temples) to three hundred (several more).

"The art of augury has been lost to us, my Lord," said the priest. "Forgive me.."

Msonus leaves eyes positioned at each of the temples, adding an additional eye to monitor the two unoccupied temples.

"I see. What arts do remain with the people of Som?" Msonus asks, "It would be a worthy education for myself, and a useful point to start."

"We still watch the stars, Lord," said the priest. "And make track of their descent. The knowledge of herbs and stones is not lost to us. We understand numbers and their natures, quite order in the storm of letters and their philosophies. Some of us known the language of the land and its inhabitants. Architecture, of the mundane variety, and are are practiced.."

"Then, remain there no Mystics among the people of the Mystic?" Msonus asks.

"We still practice several diverse forms of mysticism," said the priest through gritted teeth. "It is simply that the purer forms of Architecture have been lost to us.."

"Of course. This is what I asked. I should hope to learn the mystic ways you practice now, if you have a teacher. Learning the magics of another culture is learning their soul... and I should dearly need to know the soul of my own people.

As for purity, there is no shame in loss. A hole is to be filled, and if it is always filled with the same? Then why make the hole in the first place. There is something fascinating about that, don't you think?" Msonus says. He seems to have been distracted from his initial goal... but that was the god's standard procedure anyway.

"Ah," said the high priest. "You mean magic, Lord. I have not practiced.. and neither has my father. Magic has been scarce in these lands, replaced by the comfort and warmth of the mystic's position. I cannot help you there."

There was a small silence.

The guide spoke up.

"Actually, Lord.. there is a Temple which practices the Way of Seeing.."

The high priest gave the guide a vile look.

Msonus smiles, but says nothing for a moment. He takes a deep breath, before saying cheerfully, "Well then, thank you to you both, and whatever wishes are appropriate, I wish upon you.

Where may I find this temple, then?"

"It is said to be far to the East, hidden amongst the taller hills that rest there, forever to look upon the Field of Statues," said the guide.

A silence.

"I suppose not so much 'forever' then, perhaps.."

Msonus laughs.

"I suppose. Well then, I shall be traveling alone this time. Some things are alone-things, and there are errands to be done as well, you know. Keep well, friends, and see with your eyes. Closer or open, I leave to you.

And with that, he walks out. His eyes preceding him, he begins to head to the East.

To the east, softer scrub-land, occasionally marred with red stone or colder sand, covered in browner, stronger flora. There were no villages, no temples, only the occasional stream - and the Door. Great, as large as a modest temple, crafted into a great seal within the ground. No obvious lock - or key, for that matter. The black iron mocked Msonus, the curious text - ALL WELL IN HELLWELL - engraved in the center.

Msonus does what he tends to do, and starts talking to himself. "All well indeed, all well... How familiar. It seems the sort of thing we would say, past me and me.

He decides to try to use the same time ritual he had used many times before, to look at what had been here in the past.

Msonus caught a glimpse of a great, powerful machine, forged of electronics just as much as it was forged with magic, and the subsequent attempts at creating a new universe. The machine went mad. He saw the Architects build this great seal as they buried the machine..

That was all. More ideas than images. It was being blocked by powerful magic.

"A mystery to be solved later. First, I find myself an older mystery to be solved," Msonus says, taking the objects he had prepared for the earlier time ritual. "But first I meddle further, for the future needs it to have been the past, if knowing is to be known. "

He finds a location more central to his realm than his current one, and then settles down. He begins the ritual as he knows it to be done, and concentrates on his goal. From the time he headed, a book of information. From the time he came, a symbol. From himself, the realm, central and sole recipient of his multifacted attention.

All three eyes close at once.

Msonus felt nothing. Extremely sleepy. He felt his perception widening, becoming a tunnel..

He knew now that he should command exactly what point in time he wished to enter. Sharply, strongly.

Msonus declares, aloud and in his mind, "The Age of Ascendancy, the breaking of the Sword. I go, I must."

Msonus feels reality around him slip.. and then return. It was all so sudden.. so simple. Such power!

(Continue in the RP BROKEN PAST: AGE OF ASCENDANCY)

Msonus' Paradox returns, and he is gone to his destination and here at once.

"I suppose, now, I resume the hunt. "

Msonus reads the omens, first regarding this door, and next regarding the sect he was searching for.

The messages were unclear, fuzzy, with no clear-cut meaning. Msonus was exhausted - he could not conjure efficiently.. such a spectacular attempt at Time magic, that most disastrous of sorcery, pulled almost - as far as he could tell - to perfection. Msonus felt himself fall, exhausted beyond belief.

Msonus falls in exhaustion, and lets himself rest. He scolds himself mentally for the overexertion, but he knows that he would have it no other way.

Time passes. Slowly, Msonus feels himself stir from his slumber. He did not even remember falling asleep..

It was dark. The moon was high. Msonus unravels; he feels much better. Relaxed.

Msonus checks the eyes he has about the realm, to see if anything of note has happened during his rest. He was in no hurry to gett hings done, and this was a low-exertion task anyways.

Nothing of particular note has occurred during his rest, Msonus learned. Som is in a state of peace.

More rested now, and ready to begin again, Msonus sits himself down. "We try again, I suppose. "

He tries to read the omens once more regarding this hidden sect. Rather than reading more generally, he decides to attempt a simple experiment. An eye appears in front of him, and he draws a small circle around it. He adds small points spaced around, and tries to let the eye and the spell work with each other: Which way should the eye point, to find this sect?

(Forgive me. Which sect, exactly, are you looking for?)

(ATM I believe it's the one that "practices the Way of Seeing". )

(Sorry and cheers.)

The eye points to the west, where the Lake of the Hierophant lay.

Msonus creates a few more eyes with a wave of his hand, though they quickly depart to find new destinations.  He begins to walk back to the west, heading to the Lake of the Hierophant. There were quite some memories still about this place from his last adventure here, and Msonus was not unhappy that he had no one elses safety to worry about.

When he arrives at the lake, he sends out more eyes, scanning for signs of life or civilization.

There was no one at the lake. It seemed the locals were suspicious of this place. For good reason; it had not been so long ago that the Creature of the Lake had devoured all that it had seen. Such a dramatic shift would cause fear in all that would have heard of it.

It was a marvelous, sunny day, and the water sparkled under the light.

Msonus shouts, at no one in particular:

"I seek to see with the Way of the Seeing,"

Knowing that that was not particularly likely to succeed, he also tries to narrow the direction he needs to search by using further divinations.

The divination called to the far mountain range farther to the west. He saw a murky image: there, at the base of the mountain, would he find the last Temple that practiced the Way of Seeing. Unfortunately no one answered his call.

Msonus sighs to himself. "A lonely place, from which to see. Perhaps it is better to see emptiness clearly..." he  mutters. Picking himself up, he begins to hike further to the west, eyes streaming out before him. to guide his steps.

Soon the fairly lush grasslands were replaced by scraggier, drier scrubland, filled equally with stones and bush. It is very cold, here, and dark, but Msonus can see the black shadow of the mountains o the far west. Not far to go now.

There is the crying of something hideous in the night.

Msonus pulls a group of eyes into a ring about him, to give him a full circle of vision. He proceeds forwards, but slows his pace somewhat from before. Whatever was making noise, it did not seem civilized...  Suddenly he stops, and has an idea.

He starts muttering, and casts a simple illusion about himself to hide himself from sight, sound and smell.  He has the eyes spread out further, so as not to congregate on his location.

He continues on.

Soon, far away from the thing that cried in the night, the sun slowly rose,m casting its gaze upon Msonus and his land. The mountains seemed much, much closer now, fully dominating the horizon in front of him.

Msonus soon finds another, familiar looking traveler, sitting by a small creek. The traveler is dressed in brown robes, has a slyly inquisitive smile, and his eyes are alight with knowledge. On his forehead a third eye has been drawn in purple ink.

"You have returned," said the man, nodding at Msonus. "Lord."

"I suppose it could be said as such," Msonus says, shrugging. "And if you are here, then perhaps I have.

I assume I know who you are, but assumptions are rather silly. Msonus is Msonus, but what Msonus knows Msonus might not know. My my my.

 Who would you be? "

"I might be Parscle, Architect of the Seventeenth," said the monk. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Msonus. I am a fan of your work. Perhaps, being of the Seventeenth, not your biggest fan, but still the point remains. I had heard of your resurrection, but did not entirely believe it myself. Oh, such a fool I am."

"Resurrection is not the right word either, of course. But you know well enough, Parscle of the Seventeenth. Even if I do not. Neither fan nor fool, I should suppose, hmm? " he says quietly.

Msonus suddenly cheers up. "But, on to business. I seek those of this realm who know their Way of Seeing. You might know I was always partial for learning native customs. "

"Native customs? Ironic, yes," said Parscle the Seventeenth. "Since the Way of Seeing isn't from Som. No. It is from a distant place, a place of divinity - but not of God, of course - the Valley of such divinity. A purple tradition. Architecture, Lord Msonus, you must've heard of it."

"Isn't it funny, how rebirth works. I suppose familiarity is why it is interesting to me, then?" Msonus replies. " How intriguing to learn from something so personal...

I wonder if it is like teaching yourself something you don't know? I should very much like to learn."

At this, Parscle's eyes widened.

"But Lord!" he said, the pretence of equality gone. "You are of the 33rd Degree, sixteen above my own. How could you not know of.. Sacred Architecture..?"

"It is a rediscovering. I am Msonus, and so I am of the 33rd, but I am also Msonus, and so I know nothing. It is my belief that beginning to learn will help my rejoining of the two. Unless you know of a better way to regain the knowledge of a past self."

"Our teaching describes the Records of the Well," said Parscle earnestly. "Those Records at the core of Yggdrasil, expressed through every living being - trapped in our DNA, in our collective unconsciousness - in which all knowledge ever known by a creature native to our World-Tree is held, accessible to those who have reached enlightenment."

"Ah. What glorious teachings we have, then. Would you like to help further?

 Open yourself, Parscle, think hard on your learnings and we shall learn in a more immediate way. "

Msonus' third eye glows with a purple light, and for a moment it seems as if Parscle's forehead shares the same glimmer.

And then...

Msonus saw the shimmering of aligned light, the collection of thoughts of Parscle arranged beautifully in front of him, and learned of the Architects: originally created as an esoteric brotherhood after Msonus returned from Earth, inspired by the Masonic and Western Mystery traditions of the occult he found there, the original purpose of the Architects was to guard something - something very important. But what? That was the final reveal, given on the 32nd or 33rd - Parscle was sketchy on this point - Degree.

The Architects had almost died out, unfortunately, though they'd taken exile from the world even as long ago as the Age of Leagues, when they were declared traitors and hunted without mercy. There they fled to the far Eastern Mountains - which Eastern Mountains? This was unclear, too, though Parscle knew of which mountains he couldn't quite show Msonus what, exactly, they were, because they were obviously much more than mountains. They were hidden things. Since the disappearance of Msonus they'd followed his own teachings, studying his texts and the esoteric mysteries, the mysticism of magic, and - most dangerously - the past.

Seeing the thoughts answers questions, but Msonus is now bothered by further questions. He sighs.

 "I have much to remember, Parscle, and I am still not sure if you are the one to learn it from. Perhaps it is I who will teach me. Who knows? "  Msonus says, "But perhaps we should find our way to the temple. If that was where you were headed. It is not becoming to start a task and leave it forgotten for too long.  "

"I am sorry that I couldn't help, Lord Architect," said Parscle, a little sadly. "If it is your wish I can guide you to the Temple. It is.. you understand, however, that it is not of this land, of course. It falls in the Eastern Mountains."

"Do not worry; you have been the greatest help I have seen. Sadness should not be, not here.

 As for not of this land, that seems to be a common theme, Parscle. I am ready to travel." Msonus says.

"As am I," said Parscle, looking anxious as he brushed himself down. "But I must come clean to you. It has been I, masquerading as one of the Som, spreading rumours of the last Temple of Sight that exists in these lands. The Temple itself is not one of Sight, but is instead Blind, contained by our enemies. They care not about the rest of Som, but instead on assaulting the Eastern Mountains .. I had been sent not only to guard the temple and destroy our enemies but to find you if, as we suspected, you might be returned to us."

"Intriguing as usual, Parscle. Shall we be finishing your mission before? Will you grant me another look, then?" Msonus says, gesturing to Parscle's head. He wishes to use the same technique as before.

Msonus sees the hologram of the Temple of Sight, laced with the black of fear, the red of rage, the blue of despair and the gold of a need for revenge. He sees that it is a large - massive - building, originally guarded by several powerful beings in the service of the Architects, but they have been subdued. A largely mortal force, unmarked and unsealed - though Msonus sees that they belong to Lharazed and the Conclave, perhaps off the books - sit there at the room titled 'Portal to the East' - waiting for what? Some Divines, quite the amount of Sorcerers. A sizable force.

"My, my, quite the force. It should be better that we go together, then.

And you, Parscle? What would you have done had you not found me?"

"I would have continued to wait, and to plot, and, perhaps, when it all became too much, assault the temple by myself," admitted Parscle, feeling a little foolish.

"Have things come to such, then? " Msonus asks, talking to himself. He looks up, and suddenly says, "Did you know, Parscle, that my writings are widely published? It was a shock to me.

Peace, Parscle. I would guess we have tried it? I know some of the past, but not all is as it was.  And those who have been broken from stone live yet. And if not? We shall learn. Divines, Mortals... children of Alkan. It is quite the gathering we see there....

Of course, if one does not have the blessing of many deaths... it is a difficulty. Would you care to remain?

I wander again with my thoughts, but we must reach a destination somehow, you know. While we think, Parscle. " And with that, an eye pops, followed by another. They soar off to observe more directly the temple in question.

"I... I want to fight, Lord," said Parscle. "It is my calling as an Architect. An Architect who has taken the vows of sacred violence. I am a holy warrior, Lord, and this is my task. Live or die, I will fight by you."

--

Msonus very shortly received the message from the eyes: the temple was large, ancient, carved into the stone of the mountain itself. None seemed to be guarding the huge, Cyclopean outer entrances.