|Release||25 February 2019 (Update)|
|Destroy||You can claim this book back from your bookcase.|
|On death||Always kept outside Wild|
|A collection of notes and letters regarding the Shadow Reef.|
|Links||MRID • recipe|
|FAQ • doc|
Transcript[edit | edit source]
The ritual is prepared. I have found the words in the old texts and I have pieced together the symbols and the rhythm. It's beautiful, really, the song. Just notes, sung together in a strange harmony. To think how such a beautiful song could pierce the heavens itself and bring us our salvation.
There is something behind the stones, the pebble of the old stories - a great intelligence filled with endless compassion and infinite mercy. As I read and studied, I could feel it touching my spirit, could feel as it guided me towards this moment. It wants me to be free, wants us all to be free.
Kerapac objects, of course. As do some of the remaining council. But we've lost too many to fight amongst ourselves. The longer we wait, the more we lose to the great conflict. We simply cannot wait any longer. We must act now.
They tell me that it's dark magic. That there is something wrong about it. But they are just upset because the solution comes from faith, not from their science. I ask you, does this ritual require the torture of children? Does it require the sacrifice of sentient life? No. Unlike their science, this ritual is bloodless, this ritual is pure. Just faith and music, what purer indication of merciful intent?
So let them complain. Let them rant. We shall save the people. I go now to create a new future, free from chains, where we can forge our own destiny.
They will say that the ritual went wrong.
But it didn't.
I was wrong to assume there would be no sacrifices. All great progress requires sacrifice. How can we forge a new future if we cannot let go of the old?
But it worked.
I am free.
I no longer feel the pull. No longer am I chained to the stone. I can do as I please. I can act as I wish. I am free.
Salvation came not from the light, but from the shadows. We are scared of the dark because it shows us that nothing is set in stone, that nothing is written. The darkness shows us that the world can be anything, anything we wish it to be, whereas the light just says this is what is. The light is a lie. It is a new set of chains trapping us to the world as it is. But the darkness tells us 'make the world what it should be'.
I felt His presence in the shadows. He reached out a hand forged of black stone and He tore the chains from my soul. Then He laid the hand upon my heart and cut a line down my chest. It should have hurt, but there was no pain, only purpose. I reached inside my own chest and I pulled free my heart, for I did not need it. I took out my lungs, because I was no longer bound to the air. I placed inside me a piece of his world, because only then can I truly be free.
I returned a new Kranon. No longer trapped by the old forgotten religion. No longer enslaved to uncaring gods. I am now His voice on this world, His ambassador.
I will spread His message.
I will save them all.
And to think I hesitated.
I know what went wrong before. Why we only managed a brief glimpse of His magnificence. The ritual was flawed, too quick, too simple, too small. It's obvious, of course - great music builds to its crescendo, it doesn't demand it immediately.
I need to find the instruments. I need the right choir. Not just dragonkin, I need the others who this life has failed. Others willing to see the bigger picture, the solution to our problems. Others who need to be saved.
Taraket is already with me. My old friend. He too has been blessed by His generosity and we have both been granted the vastness of the oceans where we might gather a new flock. Together, we shall explore the stars and seek out those who can be brought out of the light.
I shall gather the lost and the abandoned. Those whose homes have been taken from them, but who are already blessed in His eyes. I shall gather them and bring them here that they may be the strength that the ritual can call from.
Those who have been cast out of their world for seeing the truth of things. The shapers of souls and the undying. They shall empower the ritual and let the harmony resonate across the planes.
Those who had everything but lost it all. They walk the world in masks pretending. I shall let their secrecy shroud the ritual until it is too late to be stopped.
Those who come willingly step into the shadows. Who see the stain of corruption on this world and wish to see the truth. They shall be my voice with which to pierce the heavens.
This Ambassador presents quite the intriguing specimen. It is clearly powerful and deeply devoted to its nameless deity, but it is also clearly dead. And yet not. It is not the animated remains of the living, I am certain enough of that, yet it is most certainly not alive. This is fascinating enough already to pique my interest, but what is perhaps most intriguing of all is the soul.
The soul is bright and booming, a wonderful example of something that has lived and lived well. But what's most intriguing is that there is a hole in the soul's pattern. Souls are like liquid: any damage done to them eventually flows back together into a cohesive form, perhaps with some scarring, but complete again. But this soul, it's as though a piece of the soul is missing and an emptiness has filled it, preventing it from reforging.
Really quite remarkable. The implications are fascinating and I confess I would love to know more.
But perhaps most remarkable is the offer it gave to me.
Reforge House Charron and reclaim my place as one of the Magister lords of my home.
This offer naturally appeals but what impresses me the most is that it would know to make such an offer. There are few who know of House Charron, let alone would care to restore it. Fewer still would know my connection to it for it has been many centuries since I last walked on Teragard. But this creature, this Ambassador, simply appeared to me and offered me this bargain.
The terms? So simple. All it needed were souls - souls as power, souls as batteries for a ritual in a long forgotten ruin. I have many spares and my apprentice will make his move soon enough that there will be many more broken pieces to take advantage of. To restore my house and only in exchange for such simple sorceries?
How can I refuse?
This is humiliating. To be brought to this, to be bargaining with these disgusting, fallen things. My Avernic shell itches and crawls, and a fire burns deep in its belly. I long to be rid of it, but I must endure.
But so it is. Our plans to summon the hundred-handed one in Daemonheim failed due to the intervention of the guardians of Guthix.
Perhaps this Kranon can succeed where we failed. If he does so, we will take the power of the hundred-handed one for ourselves, and use it to reclaim our rightful homeworld.
So here stand I, Yor'Ger, scion of Infernus, bowing and scraping and entreating, an ambassador to monsters.
Once, we were great. But that world was taken from us. We were all but forgotten, abandoned to this strange little world where we withered and we withdrew. Yet still Tezcasathla did not forsake us. Instead we were given gifts and for some of us those gifts let us leave the burning light of the surface and to come below, into his kingdom.
Here the Ambassador claims to be his voice on this world. Though he calls Tezcasathla by a different name. The strange thing is that name does not feel wrong. Is it an aspect or does Tezcasathla have many names?
The Ambassador has promised us vengeance and a chance for our people to rise again and reclaim the world that was taken from us. We are to be his fists, his claws and the teeth that rend the enemy apart, and we are to be the might from which Tezcasathla will draw upon to anchor himself to our world.
It is right that we are the strength. Right that we are the might. For we are mwanu and we know nothing of weakness.
So, the Tribunal has sent its agents to assist me. There is obviously more at work here, for the Tribunal has always believed itself above my methods. I am not part of their scheming. I have no desires to bend my knee to Agnes or her agents. This is my world and I will not grant them a foothold.
Still, they are useful. Their power adds to the ritual and I can draw upon the Tribunal's strength to give me that final edge I need to break the walls of our prison.
We will all be free.
My lord Taraket
The Aminishian monks are requesting that they be placed further away from the mwanu delegation. Apparently, the mwanu keep eating some of their functionaries and it makes it difficult to get things done.
Perhaps we should move them nearer the soul shapers? They seem to share similar physical characteristics which should make things easier.
I await your wisdom.
I do not care about the comfort of these soft and whimpering things. They are here to assist in the greatest feat of magical engineering this world has ever seen. Their comfort is irrelevant, only their obedience matters.
I suggest you raise with the mwanu that their eating habits are causing delays in the ritual and remind them of the consequences of such actions.
Dear Lady Himiko,
It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, it really has been too long. I am impressed with the work you have done to craft such a magnificent faux religious order and persuading them to be so fanatical to an obviously fantastical cause. Quite remarkable, I really must arrange a dinner with you sometime so that we may discuss your techniques at greater length. I believe we could both learn something from one another.
Oreb, Magister of House Charron
Dear Magister Oreb,
You seem to be confused. I do not offer schemes nor falsehoods, the order offers a true solution to the inherent corruption of our spirits. Our souls are all stained and we offer the only true method to cleanse them. Those who follow me do so because they see the truth and are willing to embrace it.
Dear Lady Himiko,
Forgive me. I assumed it was reason, not religion, that drove you. I find faith to be such a fickle thing, so vague and immeasurable and in my experience the effect on the soul is remarkably limited. Still, if it works for you, I cannot possibly decry it.
Oreb, Magister of House Charron.
P.S You are aware there is a spy in your order, I trust?
There are no spies in the order. You are mistaken.
Dear Lady Himiko,
No? So your wards are intentionally flawed? I wonder if you would care to explain the reasoning behind that. What advantage is there in allowing the World Guardian a direct entry to your inner sanctums?
Yours in curiosity
Oreb, Magister of House Charron
Dear my lord Ambassador,
You have been discovered. There is a traitor in the Aminishians and they have tipped off the World Guardian. I urge you caution, the World Guardian is powerful and more dangerous than any soul I have encountered so far. They have slain me many times and will do so again before the ritual is complete.
They are warded by the dead god Guthix in a way I do not yet understand. They will be immune to your subtle manipulations and it will take more power than you expect to destroy them. Do not underestimate them.
Oreb, Magister of House Charron
The World Guardian?
I wonder, if this means Player. I have dreamt of that name for centuries, a nightmare that warps even my dreams and turns my deepest prayers into curses. Warnings, perhaps, from my lord. To not be complacent? To not give in to the brash overconfidence of my people?
I shall prepare then. I shall summon a leviathan and I shall bestow upon it the blessings of my lord. Taraket shall raise an undead army and I shall prepare all of my followers to stand against them should they arrive.
The ritual will not fail.
The ritual is reaching its crescendo. The harmony is building. It has been so long in the making that I can scarcely believe it.
I have spent centuries forming the caverns to properly echo the songs. I have weathered the runes into the very rocks themselves so that they are as much a part of the ocean depths as the coral that covers them. I have forged an army of the undead and I have placed each of them at key points around the ritual such that the fragments that remain of their souls may act as a lens amplifying and redirecting the ritual energies. Ten thousand souls have been drawn from the afterlife, courtesy of our Teragardian ally, and forged into great blades with which to cut away at the walls of this universe.
If only Kerapac could see this now. See how impotent his science truly is.
Faith is the true power.
And with that faith we will tear open a gateway to heaven and we will bring His gaze upon us.
It does not matter what happens today. You have already failed them.
Update history[edit | edit source]
- patch 4 November 2019 (Update):
- Corrected some grammar when adding notes to the Umbral Diplomacy lore book.