Jentos

THE SIXTH LESSON OF THE AN-GHO Emptiness “The one who has attained Asioth is free, and the one who is free is beyond sin.” Eresar sin Nathemas delivers the Races a bitter truth; responsibility. It becomes unto all the living, the thinking, and even the dead to take charge of the account of their souls through the attainment of wisdom. Asioth is found, it is taken, and its waters and drunk deep. In so doing, the vessel of the Self is filled. The warrior fills it by the sword, the poet by the song, the wiseman by the mind. But how shall an imperfect vessel take on perfect wisdom? Arms are raised, expectations are laid at the feet of our own hopes, and we take on the knowledge of the world, gorge unto it, and so - we say that we are right. But little does the one who claims to be right, so misunderstand the make of his own body. As the student drinks from Asioth, he finds if briefly that he knows. This student, this man, has learned - he has studied among the masters, drank both the blood of the nephilim and from the fount of knowledge, so that he tells himself that he pursues Asioth. He has overheard the immortal children discuss the means of the world, he has stared at fire, and thus used the blossoming of his soul so as to warp it. And he has heard of the designs, the designs meant to save the world. And the man has learned all these things and fallen to think that it can come to know, so that one day, at one moment, upon one place, it spots a glimmer. It believes it has seen a glimmer, it believes it has walked to it, but it has stumbled. In its drunkenness, gorged upon Asioth, it has stumbled before a great precipice where a thin golden thread lays, the end of this precipice lies beyond him, but every part of him urges for him to cross, that it seems that every blade of grass that caresses his feet, and every whisper of wind before him bids him to cross, and Fate has it that even if he were to turn and leave, that the World would have it that through impossible circumstance he would have to cross the thread. But this one man, if it is a man, for it could very well be a woman, or it could be of any race, or any design, or any gender, and I shall call it a Man for by Man I mean the primary living entity which talks, and knows, and moves, and dies – has no designs to avoid crossing. For in its drunkenness, it believes it knows the path, and knows the crossing of the golden thread. Thus it places its first foot upon the thread, and then lifts the second so as to place it upon the thread, and so the man loses his balance, and falls. It falls so deep that it finds itself in a great chasm of halls, its network of halls black and bleak. But in this black place the man contemplates the forms of knowledge, loses himself to his thoughts. And it is that the man stares upon a shadow. The man contemplates its forms, the way it shudders, the way it vanishes when he passes before it, he studies its every flicker, its every movement. But never will it come to mind to him, drunk as he is on knowledge he can never hope to truly grasp, to study the flame that emits the shadow on the wall. So he will laugh, and think to know, laugh as he remains lost in deep black halls, unaware of the stars above his head. Why can he not see? He cranes his neck and he sees darkness. But neither is he capable of seeing the shining light that exists within the inscrutable dark. No. He sees only the shadow upon the wall. He sees his shadow but he does not see himself. He sees the shadow of a sword, but neither can he name the sword. In the end, he slides his hands over the walls of the deep black halls, trying to touch and clasp the shadows cast before him, he cuts his hands, he bleeds, and he paints the wall. And in its colour he finds a solemn truth, that he is wrong, and that he must bleed. The man bleeds himself. He drives his arms over the jagged edges of stone pillars worn by whistling winds. He cries out in his pain, and he is met by his echoes. He hears himself, but he still cannot understand the meaning of his pain. The agony becomes the only reality. In the midst of it no shadow is known. No thought comes to his mind. No lie can come to him. The pain transfixes him, and he hangs on its thread. As he comes to bleed he worships the darkness about him, and he finds its bitter truths, spies into the unseeing of his eyes until he begins to worship it. His pain, as much as the darkness of the tunnels about him become the altar of a new god. A god of unknowing. Thus, he prays to that which he does not know, and finds light among the dark, peace among the pain. Thus, he empties himself of his water. It is excruciating. His body is pale, and he stands amidst a puddle of his own red blood. He raises up his own head above his naked body, and sits cross-legged into the carmine of his blood. Blood drips from his head. He holds up his head for four months, and a single drop of the Waters comes down, golden, and mixes with the pool of red in which he sits. The headless man raises up the head for a year. Another drop comes down. Then he waits two years, and another drop comes down. He waits four years, and another golden drop empties from the head. In a hundred years, the head is pale as snow. Its eyes are sunken and its tongue is black. There is no more he, there is no more idea of he. There is nothing there, so the extent that in logic one makes a mistake to even consider that a thing is there in the very first place. There are no ideas in this nothing. Memories cannot be recalled. Experiences have no matter. The soul shines amidst the dark, it is brighter than it once was, and it illuminates what is now a golden pool at the feet of the headless corpse. He is empty. The bells ring three times, and for the first time, his eyes open. He cannot yet walk, but for now he can finally learn to see. No man as they are can see. Their sight is the product of the irreverent fact of influences. Theirs is a mind that is shrouded as much as their every act, for the Soul which binds all things and from which all acts come as sure as night follows day, are made imperfect by that same imperfection found in the mechanisms by which the soul operates into the body. To fill one’s body with the fount of Asioth is impossible. To forge oneself upon its knowledge, upon its idea, so that one may search for Asioth as it is leads to an imperfect creation. In reading upon the waters that fill the vessels as ascribed by Eresar sin Nathemas, may the Titan bless his name, one forgets the vessel in of itself, and makes assumption that the vessel was fit to receive in the first place. Red waters may fill your vessel, but you find then that their spill, that cracks you had not seen now exist here and there. As you cast yourself to the World you find that your wisdom seeps from you, that you become reminded that you do not know - that for all your efforts, for all your transgressions, for all the holiness you have piled upon yourself, you bleed knowledge. And for some of you, for those who are drunk upon Asioth, stumble on into the mirage of knowing, will be drawn by the allure of the golden string, and who think that shall cross it - will find that they will end up chasing shadows on a wall. To see, let alone act, let alone be - one must not be. There is among many this idea that the Soul is blank upon ones birth. But this would depend on the nature of how the soul came to be borne into the body. And moreover it asks how souls come to be in the physical form of the babe in the first sense - where did it come from, how? Is the soul that comes entirely intact or is it recycled from some other place? Is the soul merely formed - is some energy from the Karkass, or the body of the living-yet-dead God taken? By wondering how it is that the soul comes to exist in the newborn, one wonders how God is to begin with. For God as present is, but only is in the sense that it is among all of us, among the very fabric of this existence, among the lesser deities, spirits, people, to the very ground that we step on, to the very nature of the thoughts that come in our heads. In such a sense God is, but God in the sense of God is not. Because there is in a sense the field of separation, or at least the idea of separation in which the souls that make God are seemingly independent from one another, and only the actions which every one of them pose can change the actions of others, but occur in a matter of alchemical cause and effect. If God was, these principles should not exist because the alchemical reality of the World would be different in the sense that we would not be but God would be since one cannot be while the other is because the World in of itself constitutes God. It may be then, that there is some form in the cosm from which the souls of the newborn are thus made - or formed, an energy so to speak. But can we wholly admit, let alone think that such a force that would make the soul exist without any sort of influence, or proverbial “blemish” by which I refer to something which would change it, in any way, no matter how small or imperceptible. In such a way, the newborn cannot be wholly empty. And even if the newborn was, the moment it comes to be it is no longer empty, and neither can it neither seek it nor find the means of it in its weak form. For the act of emptiness in the one man is a function by which one may cleanse their gaze and so look upon the World in an unblemished state. The one who has bled his head over hundreds of years is in this fact is given the capacity to stare yet again, in pure form, at the surrounding reality and so capture information in pure form without the excesses of the bias. But such an emptiness would need be complete, and the very surroundings by which it exists must likewise find the capacity to best instruct this mind - in such a way that utter and complete emptiness is an impossibility that borders on insanity. Instead, emptiness, and its values – and the recognition of its necessity, and the nigh impossibility of wholly reaching it become to be beyond the Man. But it is through the holy act of emptying oneself, that I so term to bleed oneself, to as such, kill-the-self through negation, so open the door to the restructuring of what oneself is. But this is merely the one act which is apart of a greater series of actions that are needed to be undertaken in the solidifying of the vessel of the self. For if the vessel of the one is not empty to begin with, how is for the new waters that come into it not to be imbibed and so sullied by the waters that inhabited before hand? They must be cast out. But not merely must the waters be emptied, than the vessel in of itself be suitable for them in the very first place. Therein, the soul and the body must be made great as well. In unknowing you shall find that you know little, and in this you shall find the gods that you have forgotten amidst the darkness of your mind. You shall find that the bloodiness of the world, and the suffering in it are paramount. In unknowing, and in its search - you shall find among other things that all are lost. For to be lost is not to have a place, to be without this purpose, to not be in the home, but the home is the great totality, it is found only in the union of the World which is the union and being of the God in which it is rather than the current state in which it is not. In the wilderness, amidst jagged rocks, with no seeming direction to go to any sort of civilization - one may yet not be lost, for they will know what to do, they shall be imbibed with purpose. Or perhaps it is not even purpose let alone meaning that fills them, but it is that their immediate reactions and knowledge will ensure that they will immediately know what to do, and be content with their immediate situation, so that they should not claim that they are lost. To be lost then, refers entirely to the self, and the relationship, or rather perceived relationship between the self and the outside. Therein, to be lost depends entirely on the self since it is a matter of perception. But so I declare that even the one who states; “I am not lost.” And who believes in his own words only believes so so long as he does not de-construct his own self. For as one peels back the layers of his own ego, of his existence, until his soul and his person and his own history, he shall find himself as naked as the child he once was delivered from the womb of a mother that no longer finds itself there to guide him. All things are without mothers. All things yearn for the womb from which they once came - this is why we seek God, and union with It. For in God, we find the existence we once had, a sea of communal existence, where all was One; Resumption. Man is only a child dressed in the clothes of a civilization he has convinced himself exists. A man can be broken, a man can be raised to great heights. Only a man convinces himself that he is one thing, but a man is never a constant, he is more like a process of circumstances, ever changing, ever evolving. What is laughable too is how a man believes in the right to besmirch his brethren on behalf of their present conditions. Even a king of the noblest stock, born under the auspices of Heaven can be dragged into the mud. But he remains the posessor of a soul - and inextricably linked to this World, and the God from which that man came. Man is moved by a fount of desires, noble or perfid, they are desires nonetheless. His flesh makes him a slave. What came before him plays at his limbs from strings. In the end, Fate makes of him a puppet, and the historian reads of the past much like a crowd watches shadow-puppets from behind a screen. Break yourself, strip away at your face, at your flesh, de-construct and pose yourself; who are you. The more you ask, the more you strip at the suppositions you have begun to hold true the more you shall find that you yourself are lost. And only then, when you are bare and naked, may you dress yourself in what you have found to be true. Thus, the search for Asioth, the Penultimate Truth, and the then walking of the golden thread can only be performed whence the Vessel is both empty and perfected. Hence, truth can only be found when one is empty. For else they are the play of the shadows that follow them, manipulated by biases and unseen trickeries that have burrowed into the soul and influence one without them even knowing. PRE-EMPTION TO THE SECOND PART OF THE SIXTH LESSON Emptiness is at once an immensely peaceable experience, but its inception and its following after reaching it are some of the most agonizing processes. For as one basks into this non-being, one feels that they exist as not a sum of their own parts, but the parts of greater whole, the moment they begin to see and experience the World once more they are projected into the ever so despicable I. Slowly, the fact of being an individual returns, and the feeling is as the blood which boils and the soul which contracts within the heart and mind of the flesh. One must resist such temptation, for a person is One, but only in the sense that One is All. What follows is the realization that one is not powerless, but that power in essence does not exist in the first place. You will not understand these words, though you may think that you do. And neither will you come to see the true depths of what follows unless it is that you have been empty yourselves. And indeed, if you should fall prone to such mistakes – and so try and interpret this information, you risk instead to misinterpret and do wrong, let alone fail to truly see what it is that I ascribe. So I say to you, as a warning to the Student that has not been Empty; turn back at once. The rest of this lesson is a place of demons, a world of swords, a nest of chaos that blossom as the sunflower. You will find no reason in this place, and if you believe that you do; then know only that you are mistaken. The Sane are those who are unwise. The World does not beckon that we be Sane, rather the World demands of us that we embrace internal contradiction, for how else shall we accept the reality of all that surrounds us, that things may at once Be and not Be, all at once? In this place, only the Mad know. Asioth demands reason be cast to the side so that Truth might be known. For let this be truth unto you; that Darkness Shines. There is light amidst what is unseen, sight amidst the deepest of darks. There is in those places the greatest of revelations that are to be privy to the wisest only, those willing to thread such darkness. But darkness is not the only Truth of this World, for there is also light, one might argue that one must have proverbial Light in order to see - and thus, understand. Darkness shrouds, light blinds. Reality is neither dark nor light. The World is not bad, it is not dark. The light is not good, it is not light, and neither does it demand to be either of these things. It exists neither as a point in between but is, in fashion that escapes any attempt to quantify what it is using measures of light. For light is biased - we measure the darkness, after all, based on whether or not light is there to begin with. Therein, darkness in a sense encapsulates emptiness. But so to truly encapsulate, as you know, emptiness, is moreso also the absence of forms altogether so that darkness in of itself has no place to be since to begin with, light has no place to lack in of itself, so that emptiness per say is neither light or dark. Thus, reality can be framed within emptiness as per its unquantifiable nature, but it shows that both something that is and the one that is not exists within the same dimensional super-structure upon which similar laws of reality apply. The World therein is not a place of evil or of good. But does it mean that such things do not exist per say? It may not, for there in a sense objects of Order and Chaos also do exist, as encapsulated by both Ibliss and X*n - but it is also possible that the very existence of these entities rely on the suicide – or rather, split of the Greater Deity, God. In all Its impossible loneliness, God effectively slit Its own throat and divided its consciousness. In doing so, it manifested these base Laws that came to be in the form of what we recognized as deities because in effect, they took to being rather than nonbeing. This was the sin of these laws, the fact that instead of existing as forms that would permeate the World as a whole, they should manifest as an Individual. Thus, we are conceited in observing the fact that despite ourselves, with the split of God, did Justice come to be, and so followed with Chaos. But neither of these things exist truly either - for there was once a time where they were not, where they did not breathe. And moreover, one should also recognize that it were these gods themselves, pieces of the Karkass, that so declared these things. X*n believes in his Order, and his Order is real - but it is only real in that conception. Order can take different forms. For amidst the chaos of Void so it was revealed unto me that among Chaos there was Order, and within Order an impermeable Chaos that should always be. Amidst Emptiness, it were revealed that even the gods themselves were not real but existed as mirages of what they ought to be. And as the World sits within neither a Chaos that holds Order and an Order that holds Chaos, the World recognizes that not all crimes are unnecessary, and that not all virtues are necessary either. And thus it is, that this is what makes War holy. Our race was bred for this, for this revelation. The Nephilim are given two choices, both are right and lead to the very same place; To be or Not to Be. To not be is the search for this Unity, for Resumption - an emptiness of sorts where one exists in an altered state comparable with God. But then To be is the search to be God. Both the Right Handed (to not be) and the Left Handed (to be) path come to the same conclusion, Godhood. Amidst the greatest of darknesses, where it shined brightest, so it were revealed to me the immutable Plot; the descent of Heaven unto Hell. To bridge Light and Dark conceptually. The World is Sung into being. What is and what is not exists as an assembly of great notes that spin a conceptual reality into an ever changing and ever shifting World. Time in effect is not real, it simply refers to a lapse of changes that while interconnected, are not indicative of some kind of “lapse” in time. Hence, the World changes and shifts continuously and those changes are only privy to the one that can stand outside of the expectations of its body and of its mind, therein Emptiness allows to see how the World takes on a varietal of meanings, and how those same meanings shift on a universal scale. The purpose of the Nephilim and their mortal Heralds - therein, the purpose of Az-dromoth, is a war for meaning, a meaning whereupon the bridge between a fictional Light and Dark, that exists nonetheless in a meta-narrative that by the spiritual force of the soul which I have referred to previously as englobbing a part of the Godhead capable of manifesting thought and belief, even if indirectly, thus makes light and dark real in a sense despite the fact that they do not exist per say. Therein in the metaphysical sense, the Nephilim must sing this reality, a reality whereupon the World is made into a facet of the World upon which the designs of their Father is made real and true. There exists two such designs, one of the King and one of the God. The one of the King is the Right-handed path, where, as the singular ruler over the World, Azdromoth reigns over republican polities under his Asioth, bringing the four races into a golden age - bridging religion, spirituality, magic, politics, and science - hence beliefs, into One within the physical mortal plane. The second, the Left-handed path, is the one of the God, of the Individual. In this sense, Azdromoth becomes a True Individual, the search to become a self-moving soul that is free from the influences of the World. By removing himself from the World’s influences, by accepting what surrounds himself and ascribing to his self a non-being all the while in the firmament of his soul also, in the same time, and at the right time, also ascribing that he is, and ascribing these fundamentally contradictory purposes, Azdromoth finds himself capable of being the true Individual, alone and yet encompassing all. This allegory exists in order to explain the Divine Plot sought by the Father. These are the two possibilities - the two quests that fill the designs of the Father. In achieving them however, the Nephilim have two paths as well, that either that shall seek reunification with Man, or that they shall seek Individualism from Man - peace or war. Acceptance, or Rejection. In either case, we must not merely ascribe such designs and desires to mere action, in the sense of acts that are brought in other polities - where we wage either direct conflict or negotiation to re-enter socieites, but that they must also be englobed within the physical and metaphysical body of our immaculate Race. So the use of the Draan - a process that is tangential to the very use of Dragonsflame depends on the Will, on the use of the heart and the fire that sits within. Thereby it is a direct use and expenditure of the Soul that allows the process of that sorcery, by which miracles of fire are manifested. But this also requires the direct use and transformation of meaning, which in some times is made, as seen by the sorceries of the ordained heralds, through speech. By bridging both will and speech in this sense, the meaning of those words are made reality through that incantation. Draconic therefore is a language as much as it is a tool for the very transformation of reality. Therefore that language must be utilized to transform ourselves as much as it is to be used to transform the World that surrounds us. Language, therein, is the means to the solidifying of the Vessel as much as it allows the transformation of the Waters that are meant to fill it. One shall therein seat themselves, they shall fast and they shall dust their body with the ashes of the dead and burn incense. After having rung a bell once to announce the debut of their process, they shall internalize meaning all the while connecting to the recesses of their inner fire, upon doing this they shall clasp the meaning of that Word and they shall release it. As such one shall bind through their fire and through meaning a word which will be declared and intended - so that they will imbibe that meaning and imbue it into the world, not only in influencing outcome in the World itself but also within them to begin with. And this process shall be repeated, it should be repeated every day, at least once. And this will affix meaning into their very vessel, so that the body will be urged despite itself towards those actions, as sure as night follows day. And only then, Only then might we try and tread upon the golden thread. The thousand-year long journey comes close. I hear it, beating as a heart. Destiny. I am Arbiter, I am Prince, I am Prophet, I am An-Gho And I shall see again.

The fire of Jagobert's sword burned hot still.

its p neat tbh but it does allow for like, extreme ease of disguise, but I assume this could be the intended rendition of the magic?

I think blood magic should be about blood magic and not putting runes on an item :3 *words of the utterly insane*

"Be wary, the ghosts of the past always come to haunt the minds of men." Murmured a single-eye'd warrior to the dancing flames of the fireplace. Bitter memories of inbred emperors and the ruination of Johannesburg swam in his head.

Gonna prime that t5 spell just before that FOOL spawns in

A Nephilim prince considered sending an offer. If the queen would not have her own, he would take the man. Hell would be a better alternative than the miseries the Nephilim could inflict.

Jagobert remembers last seeing King John return to Auun. It had been in a casket, after Gaspard slew him in single combat. But magic had a way of denying even the consequences of the sword.

"Don't worry, I'll handle them Mr. General." said Jagobert as he lurched from his seat at the tavern groggily, crossbow in hand.

« Poor uncrowned Queen. Your people are united only so they might be left to die in your stead. And now that you’ve tasted the bitter price of war, you admit your black dream of genocide? Drink, Sybille - the cup grows bitter still. » So spoke the one-eye’d warrior Jagobert to seemingly no one but himself.

Jagobert plunged his burning sword down the struggling body of a fallen knight, extinguishing the flames that coated it -- the smell of burnt blood palpable.

what about morning wood?

I can't presume to know your position on pillar camping, but an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. My friend related to me how they Ss'd somewhere and were instantly met with four *swings sword* emotes. In any case it should remain non-allowed.

The title "Lord of the Craft" presupposes the presence of a Lord of the Craft, but how far are people willing to take it in order to achieve power? I think the janitorial moderation department made a mistake by allowing the camping of SS pillars in the past few days, Now beyond the fact that the rules clearly outline how camping the SS pillar is illegal, the simple fact of 4-5 guys waiting by a pillar with pre-prepared emotes waiting for the unconscious individual to teleport to it is in my opinion problematic, unfair, and silly. I don't see any good argument for it, it just feels very abusive and detrimental to the sort of "fair play" you'd want to make this esteemed Minecraft roleplaying server better. 60th we know you LOVE gooning but pls see reason

SILENCE AENGULITE QUADRUPLE SNAKE BARRAGE

god . . . im feeling kinda full after this one -- WAITER, WAITER! more spell additions please!!!

can't believe he rewrote both AZDRAZI and VARGS in a single lore piece . . .

Jagobert fairly howled from his horse, casting his burning sword to the sky. Death would rain.