Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 18:33:39 GMT
Old things have a way of getting noticed. If you find this sort of a statement logical, reasonable and utterly unquestionable, then you’re either an old thing yourself, or you don’t understand my meaning. Old things have a way of getting noticed, but not in straight forward manners; it’s more akin to a soft whisper of a breeze that gently guides you to them than anything else. They just sort of beckon, like a present waiting to be unwrapped. This tendency for some things to possess a will to be found, to be handled, to be opened, can be tracked to the dawn of time. Pandora heard the call, as did Frodo, as did countless others from other cultures well spread across time and space.
Inversely though, some things just don’t want to be found. And this was the case of the Chronetheium. Toth had heard of it for the first time as a young recruit, during their communal training sessions. To describe it as the holy grail of artifacts was not only inherently ironic, but a dramatic understatement. The tales all had certain inconsistencies-he and his classmates were hardly more than twelve years old at the time he first heard the legends-and among their teachers it was widely scoffed at. “There is a difference,” one of them, he had forgotten the name now, had said to him as they practiced their parrying, “between a legend and a myth. One of them might be true,” he had said, as he had deftly placed a strike upon the novice’s chest, “and one of them might not. It is up to you to find out which is which.”
He had spent weeks at a time locked in the White Library, learning and educating himself. He never made much more progress than his peers; he was not, it could be said, any much faster or brighter than they. The texts pertaining to the Chronethium were infamously contradictory, and quite unlike anything else in their seemingly unending collection. This had, for some, indicated an inherent falsehood in them; that the Chronethium was one of the “might not be trues” more than the “might be trues,” and that made Toth all the more curious. It was not his strength or intelligence that set him apart from the others. It was his curiosity; the one thing that really couldn’t be cultured by the swordfighting and the book reading and the world as a whole.
The one consistency was the artifact’s creation. Despite all the varied tales coming from different sources, all described it being built around an ancient thing by a timeless force. It was never all too specific as to what this thing was, or the nature of those who had made it. But that unparalleled inconsistency suggested that it was made by a race known to the Sicarii as the Unseen. To describe them in detail would be placing far too much of this story upon another track, and this will not be done here. The Unseen themselves, while not to the same degree as the Chronethium they may or may not have built, were more or less in the might not be category. But to Toth, the records on them and their creations captured his imagination.
In most texts, the Unseen were said to have crafted the Chronethium in an unnatural domain. The sketches found in the ancient texts of the Nakai never referred to the Unseen (who they called the Editors, for they refused to give them the honour of referring to them by the name they called themselves) in any positive manner, but they described the Chronethium quite distinctly: “a pious chest, containing unpious things; a tribute to those unworthy of its contents.” It contained, it would seem, some variety of stone. As to what this stone held in terms of power or capabilities was never specified, but it had captured Toth’s imagination, and in doing so, it might as well have captured his soul.
--oOo—
“Research is progressing more slowly than anticipated,” Dheth explained to the newly arrived visitor. “We’re taking extra precautions following the discovery of temporal activity leading up to our attack on Exceion.” He waved his hand over the console, and specifics regarding information pertaining to the research compound on Vastra flickered through the air. Darren glanced casually over the display-he knew most of it anyway-and nodded approvingly. “Your prudence is admirable, Shipmaster. We seem to have underestimated what we’re dealing with down there. Have there been any casualties yet?”
Dheth, confused by the question, shook his head. “Casualties? No, none to speak of. No resistance either. We have distant pseudo-standard lifesigns indicating calveras beneath the complex, but they don’t seem inclined to leave and we’re still in the final stages of assessing the complex’s data files.” Dheth shot an inquisitive look towards Darren. He was a young man with a nearly non-existent chin; it tapered to a thin point that gave him a very untrustable appearance. “Were you expecting there to be?”
“Yes. Quite a lot.” Darren answered without pause, as he deactivated the projection. “I am privy to information from several potential futures, and in most timelines, your ship is no longer in your control within 72 hours of commencing experimentation with what you’ll find down there.” He said this as he gently pointed towards the floor. Dheth had a shaken look on him for an instant, before blandly replying.
“I doubt that immensely. We’ve taken every precaution-“
“That you could think of, Dheth. Which only covers so much.” Darren moved closer to Dheth and continued. “Whatever that timecaster was doing down there was, to our understanding at least, with the explicit intent that you find it, and do things you ought not do. We are here to…” he restrained himself from saying correct the situation. “…modify events to an outcome more palatable to the Council of Five.”
Dheth, with a twinge of frustration, gestured for him to go on. And Darren did.
--oOo—
“If we can alter to a minor degree the sequence of events with the Unnatural Domain,” the fifth proposed boldly, “we may slay many birds with no stones thrown.” It was an odd analogy, but it fitted. The Council of Five tended to work that way; tweaking events again, and again, and again, until the thing was like a well rehearsed song, and all the notes came out the way they intended. The Unnatural Domain’s ultimate destruction was more or less inflexible; its course had been heavily set. But there were variables here, settings and ideas that might be mutilated and contorted until victory might rise from its cold corpse at the end of the day.
“It will be safely stowed away until the time is right,” the third added, its eyes glistening in the dark chamber. The fifth nodded in agreement, but abruptly the third’s expression changed.
“Someone is altering the fate for the Killer of the Dead.” The third stated bluntly, as illustrations of the timeline’s alteration became evident upon the walls and ceiling of the Keep. The council of five pondered it with a sense of surprise, muted apprehension, and curiosity.
“The enemy has not yet discovered it though. It is nameless to them, yet someone else knows?” The Second asked honestly. “Could it be the demon Chaw’Hast?” The council examined the lines flowing like the night sky, and they reflected upon its meaning.
“No. The demon can remain hidden, but he cannot alter events without his signature being upon it. This…this is someone new. The alteration is not a temporal event, either. How curious.” The first observed inquisitively. “And whoever it is…it appears that they’re looking for us.” She extended her fingertips and brushed past particular points in the timeline. “Yet we do not know of them. They show knowledge they should not possess, and they know of us…”
A knowing look was exchanged between the council, and they began to plot fresh fates.
--oOo--
“What the bloody hell were you doing out there?” The aide asked as he looked over the calvera lying by the side of the road; already a thin layer of ash was covering its bones, and it turned to him slowly in response. Its jaw had become unhinged, but it moved still as if trying to speak.
“Is he dead-“ Rourke started to ask, before the irony of the statement stopped him. He smirked instead, and at that moment realized that his face was cracking as the skin decayed. How unsightly. He had rolled down the window, and couldn’t see too well through the blizzard to determine quite what was going on, but he was impatient. He had a ship to catch.
The aide leaned closer, trying to make out the words the calvera was trying to utter. Only one reached his ear.
Ashes.
Inversely though, some things just don’t want to be found. And this was the case of the Chronetheium. Toth had heard of it for the first time as a young recruit, during their communal training sessions. To describe it as the holy grail of artifacts was not only inherently ironic, but a dramatic understatement. The tales all had certain inconsistencies-he and his classmates were hardly more than twelve years old at the time he first heard the legends-and among their teachers it was widely scoffed at. “There is a difference,” one of them, he had forgotten the name now, had said to him as they practiced their parrying, “between a legend and a myth. One of them might be true,” he had said, as he had deftly placed a strike upon the novice’s chest, “and one of them might not. It is up to you to find out which is which.”
He had spent weeks at a time locked in the White Library, learning and educating himself. He never made much more progress than his peers; he was not, it could be said, any much faster or brighter than they. The texts pertaining to the Chronethium were infamously contradictory, and quite unlike anything else in their seemingly unending collection. This had, for some, indicated an inherent falsehood in them; that the Chronethium was one of the “might not be trues” more than the “might be trues,” and that made Toth all the more curious. It was not his strength or intelligence that set him apart from the others. It was his curiosity; the one thing that really couldn’t be cultured by the swordfighting and the book reading and the world as a whole.
The one consistency was the artifact’s creation. Despite all the varied tales coming from different sources, all described it being built around an ancient thing by a timeless force. It was never all too specific as to what this thing was, or the nature of those who had made it. But that unparalleled inconsistency suggested that it was made by a race known to the Sicarii as the Unseen. To describe them in detail would be placing far too much of this story upon another track, and this will not be done here. The Unseen themselves, while not to the same degree as the Chronethium they may or may not have built, were more or less in the might not be category. But to Toth, the records on them and their creations captured his imagination.
In most texts, the Unseen were said to have crafted the Chronethium in an unnatural domain. The sketches found in the ancient texts of the Nakai never referred to the Unseen (who they called the Editors, for they refused to give them the honour of referring to them by the name they called themselves) in any positive manner, but they described the Chronethium quite distinctly: “a pious chest, containing unpious things; a tribute to those unworthy of its contents.” It contained, it would seem, some variety of stone. As to what this stone held in terms of power or capabilities was never specified, but it had captured Toth’s imagination, and in doing so, it might as well have captured his soul.
--oOo—
“Research is progressing more slowly than anticipated,” Dheth explained to the newly arrived visitor. “We’re taking extra precautions following the discovery of temporal activity leading up to our attack on Exceion.” He waved his hand over the console, and specifics regarding information pertaining to the research compound on Vastra flickered through the air. Darren glanced casually over the display-he knew most of it anyway-and nodded approvingly. “Your prudence is admirable, Shipmaster. We seem to have underestimated what we’re dealing with down there. Have there been any casualties yet?”
Dheth, confused by the question, shook his head. “Casualties? No, none to speak of. No resistance either. We have distant pseudo-standard lifesigns indicating calveras beneath the complex, but they don’t seem inclined to leave and we’re still in the final stages of assessing the complex’s data files.” Dheth shot an inquisitive look towards Darren. He was a young man with a nearly non-existent chin; it tapered to a thin point that gave him a very untrustable appearance. “Were you expecting there to be?”
“Yes. Quite a lot.” Darren answered without pause, as he deactivated the projection. “I am privy to information from several potential futures, and in most timelines, your ship is no longer in your control within 72 hours of commencing experimentation with what you’ll find down there.” He said this as he gently pointed towards the floor. Dheth had a shaken look on him for an instant, before blandly replying.
“I doubt that immensely. We’ve taken every precaution-“
“That you could think of, Dheth. Which only covers so much.” Darren moved closer to Dheth and continued. “Whatever that timecaster was doing down there was, to our understanding at least, with the explicit intent that you find it, and do things you ought not do. We are here to…” he restrained himself from saying correct the situation. “…modify events to an outcome more palatable to the Council of Five.”
Dheth, with a twinge of frustration, gestured for him to go on. And Darren did.
--oOo—
“If we can alter to a minor degree the sequence of events with the Unnatural Domain,” the fifth proposed boldly, “we may slay many birds with no stones thrown.” It was an odd analogy, but it fitted. The Council of Five tended to work that way; tweaking events again, and again, and again, until the thing was like a well rehearsed song, and all the notes came out the way they intended. The Unnatural Domain’s ultimate destruction was more or less inflexible; its course had been heavily set. But there were variables here, settings and ideas that might be mutilated and contorted until victory might rise from its cold corpse at the end of the day.
“It will be safely stowed away until the time is right,” the third added, its eyes glistening in the dark chamber. The fifth nodded in agreement, but abruptly the third’s expression changed.
“Someone is altering the fate for the Killer of the Dead.” The third stated bluntly, as illustrations of the timeline’s alteration became evident upon the walls and ceiling of the Keep. The council of five pondered it with a sense of surprise, muted apprehension, and curiosity.
“The enemy has not yet discovered it though. It is nameless to them, yet someone else knows?” The Second asked honestly. “Could it be the demon Chaw’Hast?” The council examined the lines flowing like the night sky, and they reflected upon its meaning.
“No. The demon can remain hidden, but he cannot alter events without his signature being upon it. This…this is someone new. The alteration is not a temporal event, either. How curious.” The first observed inquisitively. “And whoever it is…it appears that they’re looking for us.” She extended her fingertips and brushed past particular points in the timeline. “Yet we do not know of them. They show knowledge they should not possess, and they know of us…”
A knowing look was exchanged between the council, and they began to plot fresh fates.
--oOo--
“What the bloody hell were you doing out there?” The aide asked as he looked over the calvera lying by the side of the road; already a thin layer of ash was covering its bones, and it turned to him slowly in response. Its jaw had become unhinged, but it moved still as if trying to speak.
“Is he dead-“ Rourke started to ask, before the irony of the statement stopped him. He smirked instead, and at that moment realized that his face was cracking as the skin decayed. How unsightly. He had rolled down the window, and couldn’t see too well through the blizzard to determine quite what was going on, but he was impatient. He had a ship to catch.
The aide leaned closer, trying to make out the words the calvera was trying to utter. Only one reached his ear.
Ashes.