Post by @IsNotABomb on Apr 17, 2016 0:28:14 GMT -6
You're reading this, and that means you decided to dig deeper, beneath the surface, oh wise one.
And if it sounds like I'm being sardonic, it's mostly contempt for being stuck here among the dead and the dying with little but these icons to false prophets to keep me company. They wash in along the tide and I keep throwing them back. But they never stop coming...
They never stop coming.
Still, the compacts are strong enough to provide boons of sorts. Something that you would call a god. Frankly all of the things that command the sort of omnipotence you're all so fascinated with are all outside. I just watch and throw a light into the dark to keep them at bay. Now I'm not fishing for you to say that you owe me. I'm just saying you should try building a shrine to me sometime.
So where was I? Oh, right, basically you owe me.
Right, compacts. One of the first things you need to know is that an age ends with the death of gods. They're devoured by the invaders and the Dreamer rips new ones from the collective death rattle of the cosmos, that gives birth to thought and out pops you lot. Some of you are chosen and left with an echo of a dead god to catalyze, and powerful mortals are then uplifted and forced to govern.
Heretical as hell, right?
True story, though. I've witnessed it four times already. Usually it ends with some imbecile on a quest for power trying to slaughter those chosen little incubators and harvest their power. Blah blah this, and all powerful that. You witness one bid for power you've witnessed it all.
At any rate, faith is sufficient to manifest power. The divine servitors? It's all just faith. Some tap into compacts or the more ambitious will appeal to the Dreamer itself for help.
Me? I'd say that we aren't the good guys and we don't actually deserve to survive any of this.
You might beg to differ.
The Archdreamer or Dreamer as I call them is frankly my immediate superior. They've been around since the beginning of the first age. The humans you see? They were all patterned after their dreams. They reside within the void itself and breathe life into reality to make it whole. The Dreamer is a creator, depicted as three eyes arranged in a triangle with with upper central eye being the only one that is open against a starless night sky surrounded by a wreath of purple fire. The Dreamer wrought the true final shapes and the axioms for the world and imposed anathema to keep the Invaders out. But believe it or not the Dreamer didn't make that power. The Dreamer found it. See, Faith magic, divine magic, as you call it... it's not true arcana. As such it has its own rules. When she found it, they took control of it. That magic? That magic is just an appeal, they wrested control of it from its arbiter. They command truth to an abstract set of ideals.
Then there's me. I'm the Shadow Architect I reside here among the sea surrounded by waves that come slowly and crash, then fade away.. but it isn't like what you have. Space is more fluid here, and the sea... it's like wax cut from the stuff of night sky and sculpted like simulacra of the waves I watched as a mortal. My role is that of a destroyer. Every so often, the Invaders win, and my job is to ply my blades upon reality and leave no prizes for the Invaders to take, then use the names that I can remember so the Dreamer can breathe new shapes for them and give them a new world. In essence, I erase what was written to the Dreamer can make more of them, so maybe, this time, you can actually stand a chance. I have no symbol, but the few times I'm honored, I am depicted as a nightingale made of star stuff clutching a pen in its beak.
Of the Invaders I will not speak.
I have digressed. I will detail the compacts in another note.
And if it sounds like I'm being sardonic, it's mostly contempt for being stuck here among the dead and the dying with little but these icons to false prophets to keep me company. They wash in along the tide and I keep throwing them back. But they never stop coming...
They never stop coming.
Still, the compacts are strong enough to provide boons of sorts. Something that you would call a god. Frankly all of the things that command the sort of omnipotence you're all so fascinated with are all outside. I just watch and throw a light into the dark to keep them at bay. Now I'm not fishing for you to say that you owe me. I'm just saying you should try building a shrine to me sometime.
So where was I? Oh, right, basically you owe me.
Right, compacts. One of the first things you need to know is that an age ends with the death of gods. They're devoured by the invaders and the Dreamer rips new ones from the collective death rattle of the cosmos, that gives birth to thought and out pops you lot. Some of you are chosen and left with an echo of a dead god to catalyze, and powerful mortals are then uplifted and forced to govern.
Heretical as hell, right?
True story, though. I've witnessed it four times already. Usually it ends with some imbecile on a quest for power trying to slaughter those chosen little incubators and harvest their power. Blah blah this, and all powerful that. You witness one bid for power you've witnessed it all.
At any rate, faith is sufficient to manifest power. The divine servitors? It's all just faith. Some tap into compacts or the more ambitious will appeal to the Dreamer itself for help.
Me? I'd say that we aren't the good guys and we don't actually deserve to survive any of this.
You might beg to differ.
The Archdreamer or Dreamer as I call them is frankly my immediate superior. They've been around since the beginning of the first age. The humans you see? They were all patterned after their dreams. They reside within the void itself and breathe life into reality to make it whole. The Dreamer is a creator, depicted as three eyes arranged in a triangle with with upper central eye being the only one that is open against a starless night sky surrounded by a wreath of purple fire. The Dreamer wrought the true final shapes and the axioms for the world and imposed anathema to keep the Invaders out. But believe it or not the Dreamer didn't make that power. The Dreamer found it. See, Faith magic, divine magic, as you call it... it's not true arcana. As such it has its own rules. When she found it, they took control of it. That magic? That magic is just an appeal, they wrested control of it from its arbiter. They command truth to an abstract set of ideals.
Then there's me. I'm the Shadow Architect I reside here among the sea surrounded by waves that come slowly and crash, then fade away.. but it isn't like what you have. Space is more fluid here, and the sea... it's like wax cut from the stuff of night sky and sculpted like simulacra of the waves I watched as a mortal. My role is that of a destroyer. Every so often, the Invaders win, and my job is to ply my blades upon reality and leave no prizes for the Invaders to take, then use the names that I can remember so the Dreamer can breathe new shapes for them and give them a new world. In essence, I erase what was written to the Dreamer can make more of them, so maybe, this time, you can actually stand a chance. I have no symbol, but the few times I'm honored, I am depicted as a nightingale made of star stuff clutching a pen in its beak.
Of the Invaders I will not speak.
I have digressed. I will detail the compacts in another note.