"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.."