scoobi

ty pallodium for feeding the hungry

[!] This missive would be spread throughout various cities– attached to board posts, and along city signs. The information within would be considered publicly known. G R A N D O P E N I N G -o- Have you ever wished there was a third party you could speak to? Or you needed someone to turn to, but there was no one around? There are many reasons to seek out help, and for many, it's a road less traveled. But for those who wish for it, you are brave to take the first leap toward something better. Many reasons bring people to therapy: feelings of sadness or worry, demotivation, or anything really. Whatever the reason might be, that is where I come in! My name is Irene Smirnova, and I currently serve as the practicing therapist within the walls of Petra. I have spent countless years learning and experiencing the intricacies of the psyche, focusing on how different histories and ailments can affect not only our own psyche but also our physical health. My goal is to provide a safe space where words are used to serve your goals, not harm them. There are a multitude of methods in which I offer these services: Art Therapy - Through art, such as painting, sculpting, drawing, or other forms of expression, art is used to convey emotions that words fail to capture. It allows the subconscious to speak through media, perfect for those who struggle to express themselves. Familial Counseling - Involving the entire family– or aspects of it– family counseling is primarily used to improve relationships by addressing deeper issues that affect the family system beyond the individual level. Couples Counseling - A form of therapy that involves rebuilding communication and trust between partners, ensuring that the companionship once held can remain steadfast. Typically, couples counseling is partnered with individual therapy to address both goals together and separately. Individual Therapy - The most common form of therapy, individual therapy is on a one-on-one basis, in which we work together to accomplish goals, tackle both long and short-term issues, as well as focusing on specific issues that might arise. Where to Start: As of this missive, I am opening slots for clients! If you or a loved one is interested, please send a letter! I will respond as quickly as I can.

WOAHHHHHHH THERE

Name: Anne Adriana Temesch Age: Old Enough Residential Address: Some Lane (I forgot)

Soren looked at the page, a deep sigh following suit. He took the paper, ripping it apart, moving toward the door. “They mean nothing, they are just words upon parchment. C'mon, don't let them distract you, we have work to do.”

“Find another way to disconnect. I'm not helping you anymore.” Her last words to her brother. Perhaps the thing that pushed him to the end. But somewhere in here, she knew it wasn’t her fault. It was her fault. She knew it never was. It has always been. But it did not make the sting hurt any less. Her grievance with Shahan had been far too spaced out, far too many. “I don't want anything to do with you.” “I'll be good, I promise. I'll stop ruining everything, I- You can't leave me. You can't.” But deep down, she cared about him, truly. Even when she couldn’t. “I don't owe you anything. You were my sister, and you ruined it. I'm not interested in fixing it.” “I still am your sister! We share the same blood! You're so… you're so mean now.” Even when he stabbed her eye out, she still cared. Even as the blackened ichor fell down her face. “You share my blood, sure. You're not my sister, though. You're like… a tumour. Nobody wants you. You were never supposed to be around. Dad doesn't even love you, you know? He just says he does, cause he can't bring himself to kill you. You're worthless. Nobody loves you. They never will.” “You don't mean that.” - “You mean none of these words. It's-” Even when he disowned her, she still wished to fix it. Even when he kicked and spat on her. “You need to be quiet, and put your mask on. You're a freak.” - “I can't stand looking at your stupid face. I should've killed you when I had the chance “I will always love you, even if you don't.” Even when- There were too many for her to count. Too many moments in their lives where they hated each other more than words could describe. But in the hate, there was love. The burning sensation that there was something that kept them together. That kept them from killing each other. Though they got close. – She was told along a beach, holding the hands of Juniper. For a while, she fell silent, nothing escaping her. But soon, in her hands– the Prince’s Scroll, her last connection to her brother. There, she placed it within the sand, pressing her forehead against it, as she sobbed– wracking sobs that seemed to have no choice but to escape. Juniper hugged her after a while, an attempt to provide comfort, but it wasn’t enough. She needed a solution, a way to be removed from the situation. And so, she dug into her satchel. Many things were there– paper, little trinkets, bags within the bag, but her hands fell over it– the damned needle. The one her brother asked for, the one she stole from another. There was no time for her to think of her actions before she felt the sinking feeling in her body. The world dissolved around her- the salt of the air tasting of metal, the sounds around her fading into a distant hum. Before her limbs felt too far apart, before her own thoughts were spaced too far, too wide. But there was peace. She collapsed against Juniper now, hoping this would absolve her of all her mistakes, so she didn’t need to feel them any longer. So that she could go out, knowing that perhaps her final act of kindness was another sacrifice from herself. How unfortunate it is that she is loved. -=- Soren received the news some time after others received theirs. Perhaps he was not around to be told at the same time. Or perhaps, there was the sinking feeling in his chest, a feeling that even he couldn’t separate from his soul. A nod met the words he’d been told, as steps followed, walking away from the source. His steps took him to his own house and up the lift, until he stared at it. Shahan’s Room The writing scrawled onto the sign was still crisp, albeit the sign was dusty now. He had always promised him a room inside his home – even when he found out about the boy’s pact, even when he discovered the things the boy had done – he never removed the sign from his room. He never touched the things within, on the off chance he did come back. On the off chance that something changed, that anything changed. He kept it, just in case. Nowadays, Soren’s home is quiet– and there is a lingering feeling it will stay that way.

A particularly cadmium shade of creature read the letter, a grimace present on their face. A cacophony of mutterings began, pacing the room with each new word devoured. And soon enough, their steps took them to the other shade of yellow, the letter held in front of their face. There, a duel of words began, understood by none other than the duo. Perhaps it was a dead language, or one forgotten through time, but they would not forget their roots. -- A particularly exhausted woman read over the letter, passing it to her partner. "Remember the boy you met? What has become of that family..."

hmmmm I wonder what brought this on...

P R E F A C E R E T R I B U T I O N HE WHO WAS SCORNED SHALL NOT LIFT HIS SWORD IN HASTE In the respite of the night, the contentment of slumber, a presence moved, something began to stir. Thoughts slithered in unseen patterns, rationality ceasing as whispers stirred the minds of many. A subtle hand poked and prodded, guiding the crowd unnoticed— distorting LOYALTY into DOUBT, TRUST into SUSPICION. Few perceived it, fewer still understood, yet the course of their hearts shifted all the same. They strayed from those who once guarded them, following their False Prophet like LAMB to a slaughter. ∝╬══→ When eyes opened, a city stretched before them, neither fully remembered nor entirely unknown. Narrow streets connected buildings, towering shops loomed over bustling squares, and fountains splashing into courtyard conversations. In the midst, a figure hovered. Golden-eyed, hair akin to the hue of rising dawn, faint wings brushing the air. The figure stood apart, yet prominent, a presence both distant, yet alluring. The townsfolk moved around the gilded being, each step foggier than before, leading the people further from reason. The streets were plagued with laughter, but the feeling was impossible to shake. The figure called for attention suddenly, and idle wings fluttered. A mouth moved, but no sound escaped. Where sound failed, actions began to fill. LIBERTY SPIRIT JUSTICE FREEDOM GOSPEL LAW POWER AUSPICE THRONE VIRTUE ORDER PEACE CANTICLE FAITH CHARITY TEMPERANCE PATIENCE DILIGENCE HUMILITY FIDELITY GENESIS EPISTLE THUS SAITH THE LORD: 🝐 I. PALEGUS SANGUINIS | THE BLOODIED DEEP “THE WATERS CRIED BLOOD, ENSLAVED BY THE MACHINATIONS OF THEIR VESSEL.” The fountain sputtered a death croak, the water transforming into a deep, arterial red. Thick and heavy upon the tongue, a metallic tang coated the mouth, blood seeping from the crevices of the city. From every basin, gutter, stream, and faucet, the crimson tide flowed without end, coating cobblestone in its sanguine reflection. Beneath the surface, shapes writhed. They were neither fish nor shadow, instead an ever-restless thing, waiting for the call of its MASTER. 🝐 II. CARMEN PESTILENTIAE | THE HYMN OF PESTILENCE "ITS HYMN RATTLED THE LAND, HARBINGING THE DECAY TO COME." The farmlands grew still beneath an air swollen with hum and hiss. From burrows and hollows poured forth the crawling host. Its grotesque wings shimmer. Before it, the world trembled with ceaseless motion. Clothed in chitin and whispering their endless courses did its children emerge, their wings like drums of war– the song of pestilence to a fever pitch. Livestock collapsed beneath the ground, and the soil of farmland heaved, crops riddled through with ROT. 🝐 III. NATUS DOLORIS | BORN OF SUFFERING “THE ROT FESTERING WITHIN HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO FLEE OUTWARDLY.” A cacophony of bodily clarity, overrun by newfound heat from within, growing unbearable. The BODY rebelled against the SOUL. Cries rose from behind barred doors, echoing down hollow streets. The sounds descended, festering until they could no longer be heard; those who sought relief in prayer were met only with SILENCE. 🝐 IV. SOL OBSCURA | THE BLACK SUN “THE LIGHT GREW ASHAMED, AND HID ITS FACE FROM THE LIVING.” Where once the light had crowned the fields, it now recoiled. The HEAVENS dimmed to a bruise of shadow. A sun choked in its cradle, eclipsed, the world unmade beneath its dying glow. The fountains ran black, the sky wept, and faces turned heavenward only to find their own damned reflections staring back. 🝐 V. CADENTIS FILII | OF THE FALLING SON “AND THE FIRST WHO ROSE WOULD BE THE FIRST FELLED.” The flashes continued, but no longer did the legions trample the now-scorched lands. For what felt like eternity, silence followed, brief intermissions of screams, hundreds compiled into one. The gaze awoke once more, an enveloped figure kneeling before it. Finally, hands clawed onto the figure, a tear ripping through their very vessel, before darkness followed suit. High above, the False Prophet watched. Golden eyes gleamed like those of molten suns, and a smile, devoid of the previous false compassion, fueled instead with pride for which he struck the FAITHFUL. From his lips came the absence of pity, replaced with laughter, as the FIRST BORN reaped the damnation he sowed. “THEY WILL STILL CALL UPON ME, THOUGH I NO LONGER ANSWER”

Anne read the missive and grimaced. She might be the only Temesch of no use! She then passed it to Adrian for no apparent reason. "Isn't your mom on here? Or are you both still angry at each other?"

The magic has grown stale, the people too, but... as she began to read the letter, the blunt from her fingers slipped, but the letter did not. “Sister…” she started, but there wouldn’t be any words to fill that silence. Alone, she stood in the Greye manor– the only place with room for her. Not even in the Temesch home did she belong. But Augusta never made her feel that way—a spitting image of both of their parents they both were. Out of all of the siblings, Anne never blamed Augusta for leaving her in the street; Augusta was there when it matter. And nothing would change that. Letter still in hand, Anne now ran off, in another city, at another door. A few knocks filled the silence, before words finally emerged from herself. “I wasn’t sure then, but I am now.” Shortly enough, the door opened, and in Anne went. And then, the silence returned.

A hooded figure looked toward the missive now, holding it outward to the beast on their left– the supposed Enslaver of Man. A quiet laugh escaped as they read the missive aloud to the creature. “Perhaps it is time for another hunt.” Folding the missive, they moved to a stand, ushering the beast to follow. “Ribbons for chains…” they muttered, “...Oh, how the enslaved love to embellish their shackles.” They spoke to nobody in particular, but it was clear to whom their words were meant for.

⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ A DECLARATION OF TRUTH Ruination breeds Havoc As proclaimed by the first trial, I have secluded myself to the study of the scrolls. In this study, the domain of Ixris has drawn me in– enwreathed in Havoc and Ruination. Making up the final malice, it serves as a calamity of each point of the pentacles, the lines drawing them inward, for without them, the pentacle would no longer be complete. Each portion of the pentacle bears its own ruination– may that be from consumption, poison, dread, calamity, or pestilence. Havoc serves as a catalyst– bringing forth the destruction needed to ruin. The union of each respective form births havoc, yet is intertwined between The Hand and The Eye. — The first half of this thesis will serve as an introduction, a basis for my thesis. On the contrary, the latter half will be for the thesis itself: that while The Hand and The Eye appear as two separate entities, they are in unity. — ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ THE EYE AND THE HAND There is no one without the other. The Eye, both in a literal and figurative sense, is dominion over Truth. Through the Eye, the vestige which lingers behind the Oppressive God is revealed. The Eye is endowed with the ability to see beyond– to walk the steps of Strigapoth, to grant sight to the unseen. But The Eye is only a single fragment of the two, The Hand making up the other fragment. The Hand, forming the ‘physical’ aspect of the two, serves as dominion over might. While it is the Eye that sees beyond, it is the Hand that acts. In relation to the Tyrannical God, the Hand is meant to strangle him. — It is through devotion, the acknowledgment of both the Hand and the Eye, that dominion over Havoc can be reached. To see without acting is to falter; to act without sight is blindness. True dominion over the two lies in their union, to understand them as one. — ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ HAVOC INCARNATE Chaos ensues. It is through these readings that I have identified the final malice– the coalescence of Havoc, and how it cannot be wrought without the respective pieces; How it cannot be snatched, without dominion; How it cannot be seen, without devotion. The Hand and The Eye merely serve as a single layer in the pursuit of Havoc. Extending past that layer, the fragments of the parables appear– each a vessel of another truth. The Hydra speaks of the eternal rise, the higher callings as opposed to the bickerings of the world. The Crèche speaks of starting from nothing and lacking care, so long as they never reach that plateau again. And finally, the Legionary speaks of purpose– the higher calling that once again unites both The Hand and The Eye. ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ THE THRONE OF HAVOC A test of sanity. One of the biggest tests of this scroll is to mistake connection for union. To see the Eye and the Hand as separate entities is to have a flawed understanding, for therein implies a duality that cannot hold a singular ‘throne of Havoc’. This thesis will argue the parables of the Hydra and the Crèche to establish the principle of ‘eat or be eaten’, while the parable of the Legionary provides the missing fragment. The goal of this thesis is to prove that the Eye and the Hand are not two, but a singular will, forged from a mutual goal. The true unity– going farther than the fragments– is ‘to see is to act’, the final coalescence of Havoc. ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ FALSIFIED DUALITY To dream a false dream is to not dream at all. Both The Hand and The Eye are explained as concepts that are connected, but connection is not the same as union. In that same vein, I can see how they can be described as separate concepts– The Eye, unable to do as the Hand does, and the Hand not being able to act without the Eye. They began to sound as if they were simply dependent on each other, but that, too, is still far from the truth. ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ THE PRINCIPLE OF ASCENSION The Infernal Climb. The first two parables speak of the Hydra and the Crèche. In both of those, they talk about the concept of ascension. Of the choice of the eternal rise, or be eaten. Not included within these Scrolls, but instead the Black Books, is the mission of the climb: “The Weak are Meat and the Strong do Eat.” The parables follow the same guide– to either grow tall or be vanquished with the rest. Within those, the concept of the Hand and the Eye being separate does not make sense. The throne of Havoc can only have one king– one ruler. For them to be separate would bring forth that problem. ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ UNITED NOT CONNECTED Neither separate nor detached. In finality, the parable of the Legionary is the basis for my argument. In the parable, the legions are never described as separate entities, but rather as a gathering. A unity of differences, all united under a mutual goal. Within the parable, they serve under a singular banner— beneath Hand and Eye. The legion would not stand if the banner were torn or split in a removable way. Within the legion, it is not described as the Hand that acts, or the Eye that sees, but it is only the Legion that marches. They see their purpose, and equally, they choose to act upon it. There is no disconnect between the 2 fragments, because they are no longer fragments, but they are the whole. ⊰━━━━━━• ✦ •━━━━━━⊱ TO SEE IS TO ACT Dominion is devotion. To mistake connection for union is to mistake faltering for acting, to mistake naivety for idiocracy. The separation of the concepts within the scrolls serves to provide a simplistic understanding, but to accept this simplicity is to prove one’s ignorance of the true, singular will. The principle of ascension from the Hydra and Crèche provided a foundation for the true purpose, also stated within the Black Books. Combined with the Legionary, whose ‘mutual goal’ demonstrated the unity of Hand and Eye. The Legion that is not able to see or act– is not the legion. Therefore, true dominion is devotion. To see the Tyrant God is to act against him. To act against him is the ability to transcend through the divine lies. Therefore, to see is to act, and to act is to see. The Hand and The Eye are one– the throne of Havoc incarnate.

Eldminnis Höll ᛖᛚᛞᛗᛁᚾᚾᛁᛊ ᚺᛟᛚᛚ THE HALL OF ETERNAL MEMORY Issued by Acolyte Soren Aldares, on the 23rd of INN RÍKISMÁNAÐR, IAÁ 582, AGE OF AGE OF DRAGONFYRE; PREAMBLE It has been a long time since the Hearth-Temple library was utilized in a way that properly used the building it is housed in, as well as its intended purpose. Since coming to Norland, it has been one of my missions to restore the library, not only to what it formally was, but to transform it into something greater. With that, multiple things are needed for this restoration, things that reflect not only the labors of preservation but the dignity of the work we set out to do. It is not my wish that we are mistaken for the Keeper of the Flame (though our work coincides with theirs). But yet, as librarians, we tend to another fire– the flames of memory, preservation, and record. Equally, I propose a new name for the library, to coincide with the other structural work done toward it. As of today, the Hearth-Temple library will also be known as Eldminnis Höll, or ‘The Hall of Eternal Memory’. As of now, I am the only librarian. That does not make me worthy of the highest station, yet I bear the work until others are deemed fit to join. Thus, I propose the following structure: AND SO IT SHALL BE, BY THE WILL OF THE FATHER, as Hár-Vörðr of Eldminnis Höll, Acolyte, I, Soren Aldares, henceforth declaring Eldminnis Höll shall be governed according to the hierarchy outlined here, with all work, honors, and responsibility assigned to each rank. Furthermore, all existing and future servants of the new order will function under these rules and duties, holding the sacred duty of preservation and knowledge. CONTENTS THE NEW STRUCTURE CEREMONIAL GARB THE CODE OF SCROLLS THE NEW STRUCTURE High Warden (Hár-Vörðr) The highest honor in the library. The Hár-Vörðr does not have a particular section; rather, they embody the culture surrounding not only the library but the Red Faith. Responsibilities: Guiding the Spirit: their duties lie in the spiritual and physical health of the library. They accomplish this through preservation rituals, setting archival policies (vetted from the High Keeper), and ensuring all librarians’ work aligns with their purpose. They serve as the final authority on all matters of preservation and knowledge. Similarly, they are tasked with doing the work of all roles before, or filling in where needed. Warden of the Deep (Gröf-Vörðr) A master of the archival arts and guardian of a significant portion of the library’s collection. Where an associate is tasked with a section, a Gröf-Vörðr oversees an entire wing or discipline. Responsibilities: Curator: Overseeing the acquisition, vetting, and circulation of new texts within their entire discipline. Through them, it is decided what is kept outward and what’s placed in the archives. Instruction: They formally train Eiðs-Skrifari in the act of preservation and other various disciplines. Advanced Restoration: Performing complex restoration of damaged or decayed texts or scrolls that are beyond the depth of Eiðs-Skrifari. Guardian of Restriction: Managing and granting access to the library’s restricted or dangerous collection, ensuring only those with proper reason may view them. Gathering of New Faces: Responsible for finding Náms-Sveinar, as well as providing initial mentorship to them. Furthermore, they are the mentors of Eið-Skrifaris, imparting an assistant to them as part of a trial. Similarly, they are tasked with doing the work of all roles before, or filling in where needed. Oathscribe (Eið-Skrifari) An acknowledged librarian who has ‘earned their stripes’ through dedication and skill. An associate is granted stewardship over a particular section of the library– chosen based on passion or expertise. They are the primary caretakers of that knowledge stream. Responsibilities: Section Coordinator: Managing the integrity within the section by keeping it organized, up-to-date, and preserved. They are to report any significant decay or need for restoration to a Gröf-Vörðr. Mentorship: Guiding Náms-Sveinar, they share their knowledge and collection, imparting their skills and wisdom to all within their station. Similarly, they are tasked with doing the work of all roles before, or filling in where needed. Lore-Seeker (Náms-Sveinn) The novice and apprentice. The first step to the careful organization, preservation, and dignity of the library. Responsibilities: Text Tender: Oversees the organization and proper placement of scrolls within their designated spaces. CEREMONIAL GARB We are scholars, not priests; therefore, there is no need for particular articles of dress. Yet there is a need for symbols that set ourselves apart, to honor our work of preservation and memory. Our garb does not exist to promote hierarchy, but to mark the growth of knowledge cultivated from each station. High Warden (Hár-Vörðr) Considered not only a master of their craft, but a master of the library– the initial marks of distinction are removed initially, replaced with a remade garb, utilizing all the pieces of before. The initial mantle is lengthened, forming a dark reddened cloak, fastened by the same silver clasp granted to Gröfs-Vörðr. Symbolism – Unlike before, the lengthened mantle demonstrates a preeminence over all disciplines according to the halls; the cloak’s interior is lined with aurum-threaded embroidery, tracing the Eldminnis Höll’s history. Gröf-Vörðr Considered a master of their craft, there is a particular mark of distinction. In addition to the stole of their discipline, a Gröf-Vörðr is granted a mantle– a loose half-robe crafted from dark crimson wool that rests over the shoulders. Symbolism – The mantle represents the weight of their responsibilities and authority over an entire wing. The New Clasp – The previous clasp is retired– either passed down or kept as a keepsake, replaced with a silver clasp to fasten the mantle. The clasp is deliberately detailed, symbolizing a steady flame, backed by a scroll– demonstrating the expertise related to their discipline. Eið-Skrifari Upon the granting of stewardship of a particular section, the regalia lengthens. They are bestowed with a stole– a long, embroidered stole of colored linen or wool, worn over the shoulders. Symbolism – The color of the stole represents their area of expertise. The Pin – The pin is expanded upon, turned into a more refined bronze flame, which fastens the stole at their chest. It represents the spark that has grown into more of a flame. Náms-Sveinar The journey of a Náms-Sveinar begins with a single mark. An assistant wears a simple pin on their collar or lapel, in the shape of an ember. It is carved either out of wood or aurum. It is a sign of potential, and a spark of knowledge they have sworn to tend. THE CODE OF SCROLLS The Code of Scrolls stands as a guide for all who serve within. It is not a simple set of rules, but rather a reflection of the duty we are to uphold. “We are to preserve knowledge, protect memory, and most importantly, cultivate growth.” - Soren Aldares Through the mandates, every librarian, from the Náms-Sveinar to the esteemed Hár-Vörður, is bound to uphold each of the principles listed. Each section within the Code ensures that our work honors both the religious and civic duties of Verdrgrad, nourishing a beacon of learning for generations to come. The Code is a living record, to be amended with the turning of ages. To serve under it is to dedicate oneself to the sacred work of the Eldminnis Höll, and what it stands for. Tenets of Equality and Observance Furthermore, our halls prohibit deific magics such as, but not limited to, vampirism; mysticism; warlockry; voidal; and other forms of dark magics. If it is discovered that you practice any of the following, your tenure shall be extinguished, and you will be dealt with accordingly. Additionally, considering the library’s sacred location within the Hearth-Temple, all librarians are required to study the tenets of the Red Faith and learn the cultural intricacies and customs of Verdrgrad, ensuring their work aligns with both the spiritual and civic expectations of their station. Promotions and Transfer Between Stations No librarian may ascend to a higher station without first having served in all subordinate ranks, unless deemed otherwise by the Hár-Vörðr. Similarly, the Hár-Vörðr can only be taken by one who has walked the path of all pre-requisite ranks and who has demonstrated mastery in all subjects of the prior stages. Transfer between disciplines of the same ranks may be requested at the recommendation of a mentor and approval of the overseeing Hár-Vörðr. Formal trials for said advancement may be conducted at their discretion, ensuring competence and fidelity to the library’s sacred purpose. AND SO IT SHALL BE, BY THE WILL OF OUR ALLFATHER, as Hár-Vörðr of Eldminnis Höll, Acolyte, Soren Aldares

Anne Adriana Temesch stared at the missive for a long while. An unnaturally long time, reading over the words. Soon enough, a sigh broke through, handing the paper off to another. @Cheeseycereal "Another one gone... and he looked just like me..." She hadn't known him well, or quite at all, but it was still blood. "...shall we bet on who's next?"