[I] A Philosopher's Scroll

[Nozgoth 2901]

Spoiler

 

 

 

[!] A scroll, tattered and ripped on its edges came to be found everywhere, nowhere, and in the most peculiar of places… It was clearly the beginning to something long and great, scrawled in fine print with elegant silver ink.

 

Viscera Veritatis

The Bowels of Truth

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[!] A drawing of a lion eating the sun.

 

The Preface.

 

O Almighty, Bringer of Birth and Seer of Death, 

the Majesty who rules over the Heavens and bestows unto us holy gold,

O True Leader of Man, Bridge to the Infinite Cosmos Beyond,

Thy rays like torches, shining upon our kingdoms,

And thy love like a shield, impenetrable to trespassers against thee,

Let those in doubt SEE what truth is, what truly is, AND the inexplicable.

 

Thou’st wisdom boundless, and full of honour,

That thou would offer such a boon to call holiness,

For that, our souls remain in debt eternally, forever owing thee for the vaunted art,

The revered, the great, and the immortal.

 

So be my teacher, my rule, and my support,

And never will I break thy bounds, or trespass against thee,

My hand will be the tool of God,

My water will be God’s ichor,

My tools, holy weapons bestowed upon me,

And my body, a requiem to this world's blasphemy.

 

For I have seen the truth.

The undying flow,

And the cosmic laws,

The primordial blood,

The gates of Heaven,

And the lakes of Hell.

The Bowels of Truth.

 

Be this not a guide, but an enlightenment; a path to ascension, so that all may be one and whole, and our sins forgiven.

 

Amen.

 

[!] A drawing of two serpents looping to eat each other, forming a circle with an eye in the middle.

 

On Revelation: The Base of Art

 

Art: a thing so fickle that none appreciate its brilliance. Art is eternal, it has existed long before us, and will exist long after us. It is the key to culture, discovery, personalization, inspiration, and even divination. But what is art truly? It is the creation of something to express truth, it is not only the pigment splattered on white canvas. Art as a concept is due to the ultimate, supreme creator of creation; God. Art is what flows through our veins to keep us vitalized. Art is the sky reflected by the blue ocean, and the pastel flowers hidden by towering trees. But not only that, because art is something much deeper. The ancient molecules that make up our soul, the syrup of a plant, or wizened hands that toil tirelessly. To understand, one must first recognize the undying flow, which calls for REVELATION.

 

The Great Lord descends to bestow upon us the most precious of treasures,

Invaluable, priceless things that no amount of coin can measure,

He shows us things when we dream, but it is no pleasure,

For it speaks to me with with eyes and teeth, in the most indiscernible of language,

But when it speaks I can finally see, and the taste of glory sits on the cusp of my tongue,

A tincture to make me forever young? Or perhaps one to make me forever drunk?

 

Revelation is the key to truth and ambition, it is the act of dreaming and waking up in heaven. The spirit will speak and the dreamer will listen, only to be told impalpable rhymes and riddles which take years to decode. Though if the dreamer is strong enough they might be able to find value, or even speak to truth itself - in which they have unlocked the next door to descend deeper into the dungeon. But you must ask yourself: is it worth pursuing this ill (or even maddening) dream? To that I say:

 

I have met God, and he introduced me to truth,

Do not take these here words as the prophetic ramblings of a madman,

For I can turn stone to gold, and even in my dying wake I will hold truth,

As such, I am not afraid of death.

If I die, the land will consume my body - and I will be spat back out as a tree,

Then the mound on which the tree stands might grow to be a mountain,

Then that mountain might sink back down into the ocean; where it all originated,

Therefore, making me eternal.

Such is the undying flow of our plane, the first doorway (or law) to truth.

 

Upon a throne of wind like rushing rivers sits naught but a rabbit, the merest expected,

For it is he who rules over this domain, and forever shall his reign continue,

And his eyes devoid of pupils like the orbs of the abyss itself,

But this rabbit is nimble, as such no predator will ever catch him,

No predator will ever have rule over him,

It is he who decides who may communicate with him, who is worthy enough.

 

The awakening will come to one when they are worthy, no later, nor sooner,

And on that ill-fated eve, the moon will cascade its secrets,

The sun will make way for the white orb of night,

Then in its wake, all will be consumed in darkness, bringing about a new age for all,

Man-kind will become whole and in unison with their predecessor,

And wars waged from bloodlust would plague the cosmos in assay to bridge the gap between human and GOD.

 

One curious tale of rapid revelation depicts a scholar from far-off lands, some thousand years ago. He was middle-aged, journeying into an archaic temple which hadn’t been in use since times untold. With a guild of four trained rangers, he forayed far through those crumbling tunnels made from limestone and cobble. Vines seeped through the bricks like wicked tendrils, and traps layed around every corner; false tiles, spears jutting from the walls, pits of spikes, and as they got deeper - lava from the realm’s mantle. This temple was a place of worship, but the proper details were lost to time. Occult scribblings lined the walls intensely as they pushed onward… “What did they worship here?”. By then, it had seemed like hours since they first entered, and there was no sign of it ending either: “It’s like a labyrinth.” murmured one. The scholar took note of every object, altar, writing, and detail that could be found within the temple. And they continued, until a fleeting disaster happened out of nowhere! The wooden stilts which supported the tunnels caved in, separating the scholar from his group, he was trapped on the other side, forced to explore deeper to find another exit. A day went by and the only company he had were the fleshless skulls which were wedged into the walls. There was no hope, so he delved into the research he had gathered from that profane temple to pass the time until his death. It drove him mad, with each day down in that dungeon he grew more peculiar. His deranged mind had trouble thinking about anything other than the prayers to the God which this temple was devoted to. And so he recited them continuously, fervorously chanting incantations left behind ten-thousand years before. Then, in his moment of most desperation, IT came to him. A cosmic vision which supposedly showed him every truth of the universe in one second - and then it was gone. This knowledge unhinged his mind, and then his soul left his body - leaving that carcass to rot and rising to the Heavens.

 

This is REVELATION… this is ASCENSION.

 

[!] A complex drawing containing archaic symbolism.

 

A Prophecy: The Black Nativity

 

Since the beginning of time, the main focal points of our universe have been predetermined. Supposedly by God, that is, though I would be so bold as to suggest that even GOD itself was predetermined. For, existence as a concept is ridden with infinite inception, and as such, a definite beginning or end is impossible to comprehend, because they simply cannot exist (in the perspectives of the descendent mind, at least). We as descendents either believe in a higher power, or believe that we are creations of random chance. Though GOD would be just as foolish as us to assume that it has no creator. Therefore, everything MUST be ultimately predetermined by ancient and inconceivable works of geometry; like a code or algorithm of sorts. The things of our plane can be broken down into elements, signs, symbols, or whatever one wishes to call them. These things themselves are proof of what I claim, because our materials are made of something, in turn meaning that what they are made of must be made of something, which then gives birth to an infinite loop (in essence, if something exists, it is an infinite being). Such is the unrelenting law of inception, and the eventuality of entropy.

 

The only problem with this here theorem, is that time is ticking; which means that time had to have started at one singular point. That point has come to be known as The Black Nativity, where the serpentine spirit swallowed the abyssal darkness - and in that darkness it set into motion the inevitable force of foul entropy, bringing about vast networks of stars, light, planets, and constellations; the spawn of all… astronomy, theurgy, alchemy (the brethren crafts). Thus came suffering, sin, and death. The death of hope, to be specific, for, a perfect balance hung prior to that wretched sacrament, a perfect bliss encompassed all of our spirits; and this great act of malevolence ushered unto us the scourge of time - the outlasting eventuality. Though what one must come to know is that with all things gained, there must be sacrifice and compromise. Even though there was perfect bliss before, this world we have now would have never existed. Alas, we live on in the stomach of GOD, merely waiting to be digested.

 

In the bellows it lies,

Where the scaled king sits upon a throne of lies,

And his crown wrought from lead and pyrite,

Which shines a black hue.

 

The walls echo with the cries,

Of poor souls meeting their demise,

Giving way to a being seven times their size,

And with each one, it grew.

 

And this being which we so despise,

That sits upon a throne of lies,

Forever hides.

Forever hides, behind a thick white guise,

With a pair of wings that fly,

And eyes sallow, like shining stars in the night,

Its true form, a thing that nobody knew.

 

But it serves only one purpose,

Like a repeated reprise,

To arise, from the deepest depths,

And take with it, a plan devised to end all,

Then we will say our goodbyes.

 

But in this inevitable eventuality there lies an unseen salvation,

Where all man, elf, dwarf, and orc alike unite in one nation,

Where all will be one and whole with the divine spirit,

Returned once more to whence they came,

The original dark,

Where only the eldest of things lurk.

 

[!] And there the scroll was torn, perhaps there was indeed more to this story than meets the eye.

 

Spoiler

OOC: This is basically one part to a great and vast manuscript that I am working on, which will be released to the public in segments much like this one here. I plan on integrating this in roleplay, and who knows, maybe something cool will come of it! It’s edgy, I know.

 

Edited May 27, 2021 by Wizard of NOZ

[Glade 521]

Spoiler

 

Literally too deep to understand.

 

+1

[Maclunkey 453]

Very based.