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Comments
I'm sorry, I didn't know it would go that way.
Would LOVE to have some more of Professor's lectures for sure, though!
That love soon might end You are unbreaking
And be known in its aching Though quaking
Shown in this shaking Though crazy
Lately of my wasteland, baby That's just wasteland, baby
Proprietor: Virtimnabulus Claq.
--------(Item)------(Description)------------------------------(Stock)--(Price)
mask101441 a strangely distorted mask 50 1800gp
torc498912 a broken iron torc 20 8000gp
burger499840 a grandiose burger 50 1200gp
cookie500936 a sugar cookie depicting a black rider 50 150gp
bracelet515816 a chaotic charm bracelet of Ashtani pride 50 1500gp
You see Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum shout, "Following this showcase, the final showcase of the Fair will take place, an unexpected, last minute addition to the calendar!"
Mathonwy says to a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child, "It's good you didn't get bored to sleep by that professor."
A smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child says, "I almost did but then he talked about devourers."
Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum finds herself a quiet corner of the tent and settles into a comfortable position, legs crossed and eyes trained on Mathonwy.
A smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child says, "Oh! Okay."
Cooper slips behind a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child and garrotes him with his whip.
Cooper has scored an ANNIHILATINGLY POWERFUL CRITICAL hit!
A smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child has been slain by Cooper.
A caramel-dipped apple coated in almonds tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A wooden skewer of pineapple-stuffed rambutans tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A jelly-topped mango mousse cake tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A decadent plate of golden sovereign cookies tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A cup of kawhe ice cream with chocolate drizzle tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A loaf of darkbrew bread tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A harlequin wedding cake with a reluctant groom tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A plate containing a slice of lemon meringue pie tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A driftwood platter of candied blueberry tartlets tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A plate of poultry stew with saffron couscous tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A toasted chocolate sandwich tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A rare venison steak tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A plate of chocolate fondant and vanilla ice cream tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
Cotton candy on a stick tumbles out of the corpse of a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
A tiny pile of sovereigns spills from the corpse.
Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum points accusingly at Cooper.
Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum exclaims, "OUT!"
Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum says, "OUT OF MY FAIR AT ONCE."
Cooper smirks.
Cooper leaves to the southwest.
Mathonwy pauses a moment, staring at nothing in particular to gather his thoughts.
Mathonwy motions for silence.
Mathonwy says, "I'm certain the child will be back, given enough time."
Mathonwy moves before a turbulent painting titled "To Victory", gazing at it for a moment before he turns to face the crowd.
Holocaust Prince Taryius Lichlord, Preceptor of the Devout says in a harsh, rasping voice, "Evil comes for all, the young and innocent are no exception."
Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum says, "Perhaps the next time I host an event about peace and culture I will not extend the courtesy to those who clearly lack sense of either."
Truax frowns and whispers to Taryius in a soft-spoken voice, "Your showcase ended months ago. Do be respectful of ours."
Mathonwy says formally, "Friends, fellow Ashtani, guests of honour, thank you all for joining."
Mathonwy says, "I'd like to start by acknowledging that we have seen many a performance, from the great to the ordinary, the impressive to the mundane, over the course of this World's Fair. To be counted among the speakers of this place is a prestige none should forget any time soon, for truly, to be afforded this place of privilege is a crowning achievement."
Mathonwy says, "But the portrait of our world is, as of yet, incomplete. We have fleshed out a great many details, we have taken in so many spectacles, but the story of the city in whose shadow we practically loom remains, as of yet, unspoken."
Mathonwy waits, hands clasped before him, until the echo of his words dies down, before stepping away from the portrait and moving closer to the audience.
Mathonwy says, "In a world of long and looming memories, Ashtan's presence reaches back even further still. Predating the fall and rise of old Seleucar, both, what stands now as the Seat of Chaos began, originally, as a venture for the lovesick Glanos."
Mathonwy says, "His relationship with his dear friend and brother, Sahart, having been irreparably damaged, the twin sons of Carme departed noble Ceylon, each to find his own destiny."
Mathonwy says, "That destiny would come to outlast and overshadow both of the brothers. In time, the village Glanos founded came to become a great city, a Bastion of iron and stone. In time, that city would stretch on, a beacon for culture and expression the world over."
Mathonwy says, "And in time, these twin cities would meet, having heard only urgent whisperings of the others. The feud that came to define Glanos and Sahart, the feud that came to spark Ashtan and Shallam, would grow to inflame passions, and several cycles of war would follow."
Mathonwy gestures west, toward the city, as he speaks.
Mathonwy says, "Through these cycles of war, the sacrifices of people like Travian Shea, and the noble leadership of Zarathustra, among others, Ashtan would become known as a city that valued the right of self-determination among all other values."
Mathonwy says theatrically, "The city became known as a place where the strong and weak alike could arrive, be they nameless peasants or established merchants, and under the aegis of Ashtan, pursue the life they had desired but could not find elsewhere. The strong yet slow protected the nebbish but brilliant. The idealistic inspired the cunning. Each and every citizen had a place in Ashtan."
Mathonwy says wryly, "Even if it was to serve as a parable of what not to do."
Mathonwy's eyes gaze briefly toward the spot where the halfling child once sat.
Mathonwy says quietly, "Together, the city grew, its coffers and its reputation alike. Together, the myraid perspectives and staggeringly deep pool of knowledge allowed the city and its denizens to fulfill their talents and purposes, to become what they'd always wanted to be."
Mathonwy says, "And as it accumulated both esteem and wealth, there arrived time and again those before the Black Gates of Ashtan those who would claim this jewel for their own crowns."
Mathonwy pauses a moment, staring at nothing in particular to gather his thoughts.
Mathonwy says deliberately, "I am here to tell you of the most important of those times, the last time, the time when Ashtan came closest to losing what the principle it valued the most: that ability to transcend the identity you were carelessly handed at birth in favour of one you forged in the depths of adversity and inspiration itself."
Mathonwy says firmly, "A right to become what you want to become, provided you have the strength of will to enact your vision."
Mathonwy snaps his fingers, and around you, the lights dim considerably.
And then, darkness.
From the inky black, there emerges an irridescent sheen, covering the entirety of the floor. A riot of kaleidoscopic colour radiates outward from Mathonwy's feet, spreading until it reaches the furthest stretches of the tent.
Mathonwy says quietly, "A corner of Creation, just after the end of the Chaos Wars. For his crimes, Pazuzu, Slith, and their undead legions were banished here, and when Ayar dispersed Entropy and Discord, this place received most of that, as well."
As your eyes adjust to the surroundings, you see not the audience of the World's Fair, but the winged demons and undead legion veterans of the Chaos Wars.
You feel something brush by your feet, and as the irridescent shimmer ripples and changes, so too do you notice something new within the pools of colour.
Slowly, uncertainly, from the substance emerges a hand, clinging to your leg as if to steady and support itself.
One of the demons, a winged bear-like creature with six eyes spread evenly along his face, lashes out with ferocious strength and blinding speed at the arm trying to steady itself upon his leg, and the creature falls back within the rippling colour, dissipating as it does so.
As they ascend from the depths, you catch glimpses, occasionally, of these creatures: some appear to be quite human but with the stray tentacle or extra eye, others considerably less so. Here and there, the occasional demon or undead legion lowers its weapon, observing these creatures with more curiosity than disdain.
The screams and grunts of the chaos thralls reach a crescendo as the vanquished demons and undead legions cut through a wall of meat. Yet, for every one they cut down, two more seem to emerge.
-
The vision fades, to be replaced with the tent once more.
Mathonwy says, "From this Second Chaos War, there emerged a number of thralls, as well as sympathetic demons or legions, that we collectively call the Chaos Lords. Of all the Lords, none were as powerful as Glaaki and Golgotha. Pazuzu and Slith, realising the power of the former, banished him between time and space. But they did not see the threat that Golgotha posed to them."
Mathonwy says, "By all accounts, Golgotha was a cruel and mercurial ruler. Succeeding in banishing Slith, Pazuzu, and even Zsarachnor to the Prime Material Plane, he administrated the Plane of Chaos with an iron fist, and his will was law."
Mathonwy says slowly, "Until."
A bright flash blinds you momentarily, and as your vision returns, you see before you a tentacle-wreathed figure clad in robes. Several of your robed brethren remove their masks, gaping openly in astonishment at the new arrival.
Ritual droning pervades the room, but the new arrival disrupts the chanting, first throwing off the rhythm, before it stops entirely. Before long, the entire room is in disarray.
Mathonwy says, "The scholars and ritualists of the Occultists succeeded, against all odds, at returning this famed figure to the Prime Material Plane."
Removing his hood, one of the figures, a slight tsol'aa, rushes over to talk to a dark-haired human.
A slight tsol'aa says emotionally in a dazed tone of voice, "This must be kept secret, even among House members. If this knowledge were to escape..."
A dark-haired human says firmly in an Ashtani accent, "I am well aware of the consequences. Let this knowledge remain with those in this room and the Exarchs of the House, at least for now."
A look of trepidation fills the slight tsol'aa's face, but he nods and falls silent.
The scene fades, and once more you find yourselves back inside of the lavish tent.
A smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child, with fear in his eyes, attempts to avoid interrupting by hiding behind Skye.
Mathonwy softly asks a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child, "You gave everyone quite the scare, my lad. I trust you're feeling better now?"
Mathonwy says to a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child, "Just know that nobody will let harm come to you while you're in this tent."
Mathonwy clears his throat.
Mathonwy motions for silence.
Mathonwy says, "And so it was that Glaaki escaped his prison, remaining hidden within the House estate of the Occultists."
Mathonwy says softly, "Yet, long was Golgotha's reach, and many were his ears."
Mathonwy says, "And great was Golgotha's ire. He became seized with paranoia, jealousy, and perhaps just a touch of fear."
Mathonwy pauses, glancing around the room to observe his audience for a moment.
Mathonwy says, "Many of you, accomplished politicians in your own right, know the effects that a sudden entrant upon the scene can have. Many of you, in pursuit of your own advancement, have even, perhaps, played the role of upstart. I suspect many more of you have, at one point or another, lived under an unpredictable leader who wielded almost absolute power."
Mathonwy's glance flits briefly to Farrah before surveying the crowd once more.
Mathonwy says, "You are all acquainted to the depths to which mortals, drunk on power, can reach in their desperation."
Mathonwy says, "Yet when the powerful and paranoid are challenged, there is ironically often one response: he declared a siege upon Ashtan."
Mathonwy says, "As have many in the city's storied past."
Mathonwy says, "In his paranoia, he felt he had but one recourse, one weapon he might trust above all others."
As Mathonwy speaks, the environs change once more, to an idyllic scene set within a bustling market place. The sun, high overhead, darkens briefly, and a hollow scream of unearthly rage sets upon you from all sides, shattering glass and rendering grown men and women gibbering with fear and madness.
From deep within the Sorrow of Ashtan, a horrifying figure emerges from the depths of history and legend: the Spawn of the Unnameable Horror. As it rears over the city, a number of chaos thralls rush through the streets, slaughtering those they can and destroying anything within their reach.
As you look on, you see the hideous form of the Spawn lay utter and complete waste to whole neighborhoods of the city, and an ethereal wail informs you of the demise of the Shadowsnakes' oversoul.
Without missing a beat, harsh barks echo throughout the city as the guard is mustered, and the battle-lined face of Jhui Tasa, the Warlord of Ashtan, can be seen upon the parapets, animated by urgent need and issuing orders for a hasty defence of the city.
The forces of Ashtan meet the legions loyal to Golgotha upon the field of battle, wavering at first but stabilising as they press forward, with but one goal in mind: the defence of a city that has not fallen to interlopers in the modern age.
The scene blurs, and you feel yourself lurch forward in time.
Mathonwy says, "Through a deal in which both the Warlocks and the Occultists gave up what mattered most to them, the forces of Ashtan found their way onto the Wheel of Chaos, where Golgotha waited."
Standing before an enormous volcano upon the ruins of the Chaos Plane, the legions of Ashtan quickly get their bearings. As they press forward, they begin to close in upon the Spawn of the Unnameable Horror.
Legion after legion throw themselves at the Spawn, who screams out in rage and pain.
-
Again and again, the legions press their attack, shedding blood and worse in defence of their home. Although the dead and dying Ashtani forces number in the scores, nevertheless they continue their inexorable advance upon the fabled creature of Chaos.
After a time, the Spawn falls still, and the remaining forces, not trusting the victory they've earned, remained braced for several tense moments.
From the throngs of Ashtani, there emerges one figure, robed and with tentacles evident. He begins a steady climb up the mountain, enduring or brushing aside countless attacks which rain down upon him.
As he approaches the increasingly frenetic, armour-clad form of Golgotha, the first Chaos Lord to achieve sentience, adopts a resolute expression, for he knows what must be done.
Throwing everything he has at the elder Chaos Lord, Golgotha finally arrests Glaaki's ascent with an opaque, eldritch cloud of pale blue mist.
Yet, small at first and increasing in size, a violet light shines, subsuming the mist before detonating it entirely. Undeterred, Glaaki continues his terrible and steady climb.
Arriving before the Infernal Throne, Glaaki speaks to Golgotha for the first time in centuries.
Glaaki says, "It has taken me an eternity, Golgotha, to reach this point. But despite the tortures of the Infernal Lords I have always held onto one thing."
Mathonwy says quietly, "And in that moment, I am told the cold sensation of absolute terror, palpable and certain, befell Golgotha for the first time in living memory, for surely he knew what was to come next."
Mathonwy pauses once more before speaking, lowering his tone once more.
Mathonwy says, "It is said that each man, woman, and children has, written among the Planes, a truename, a reflection of the power and majesty to which we might all inherit. But that truename must be guarded carefully, for if given freely to another, that name has terrible power."
Mathonwy says, "This, many of you know firsthand."
Glaaki, savouring this moment, raises one clawed fist in triumph, and as he raises his blanched fist to the heavens in triumph, he utters one, singular word, barely audible even to Golgotha himself.
In a detonation of black iron, Golgotha's enormous suit of armour exploded, the illusory pieces of iron speeding past the audience.
Mathonwy says, "For any lesser creature, the invocation of the truename heralds imminent death."
Mathonwy Corso, the Orator says deliberately in a measured tone of voice, "But Golgotha is not a lesser creature."
Twice more, Glaaki uttered this truename of Golgotha, and in each utterance, Golgotha shrunk, becoming lesser and lesser, until he is no more than a shadow of his former self. Kneeling in abject supplication, the once-majestic but endlessly arrogant Jy'Barrack Golgotha, the Emperor of Chaos, was no more. In his place, Golgotha, the Emperor's thrall, remained.
Mathonwy says softly, "Behold: the transient nature of power."
The thrall, dejected, posts no opposition as Glaaki, scarce glancing at his one-time nemesis, takes his seat upon the Infernal Throne.
As Mathonwy's words fade, so too does the vision, to be replaced by normal candlelight and the scene of the pavillion.
Mathonwy says, "In the days that followed, Dunn Lichlord, the Overseer of Ashtan, called Tyrant of the North by his enemies, would treat with the Imperator, for each had discovered in the other a spirit of remarkable similarity. In Ashtan, Imperator Glaaki had found an advocate upon the Prime Material Plane and a city of like-minded and capable souls."
Mathonwy asks, "In the Imperator, the City of Ashtan had found a protector and mentor, for what better living example of self-determination and reinvention than those who came into existence in the very face of adversity itself?"
Mathonwy says, "And while there are always those who prefer to be chained by tradition, Ashtan, ever focused as it has been upon the freedom to become who you wish to become, has found a new avenue toward the actualization of our collective potential: the path of Ascension."
Mathonwy says patiently, "First explored in rudimentary fashion by the fabled Occultists of old, the path of Ascension is no less than the manifestation of all latent potential one might possess."
Mathonwy smiles ruefully.
Mathonwy says, "Indeed, history has always looked favourably upon the great men and women with the determination and resolution to change the world for the better. With the Chaos Court, with Ashtan, and with Ascension, no longer will this path be limited to the precious few, with those who have more resources than sense."
Mathonwy says firmly, "By ascending to the Chaos Court, by bringing that power into our world, the strictures keeping you from that which you desire most can be removed, for truly, no barrier is an opposition to the forces of Chaos."
Mezghar gives Farrah a weary look.
Mathonwy says, "And indeed, Chaos is the great unleashing: of potential, of motion, of all that you hold repressed, of all that you wish you could attain but cannot bring yourself to consider."
Mathonwy says, "For as children of Creation trapped within a dying and rotting world, is it not our duty to bring to life the full ambit of Ayar's scope and vision? Bear in mind: He did not simply excise Chaos from Creation, even at the height of the wars, even when He believed His creation itself was in peril."
Farrah shrugs her shoulders slightly towards Mezghar, looking unimpressed.
Mathonwy moves toward the assembled Targossians, directing his next words at them.
Mathonwy says, "Indeed, He was the one who created the Realm of Chaos in the first place, did He not? And once He became Sarapis, wasn't His first action more or less a sanctioning of the state of affairs that Ayar put into motion?"
Mathonwy says to Sothantos, "Look at the workings of humanity. Gaze upon its ascendance. It's no accident that the race most closely aligned with Chaos has become so pre-eminent in its own time, is not not?"
Mathonwy asks Farrah, "And yet, is there anything special about humanity other than its eldritch beginnings?"
Sothantos frowns at Mathonwy.
Alasiel gives Sothantos a sidelong glance.
Mathonwy asks Alasiel, "Surely it is not given to us, as mortals and inheritors of greatness, that we should bequeath unto our own progeny naught but a world depleted both in resources and in ambition?"
Mathonwy says softly, "No, I prefer to think of humanity as the merest shadow of what, together, we might accomplish. Of what we might bring this world to be."
Mathonwy says emphatically, "I prefer to think of Chaos as Ayar's vision made complete."
Mezghar snorts softly, looking entirely disgusted.
Mathonwy flashes Mezghar a joyous smile.
Tesha purses her lips, deep in thought.
Stepping forward, Mathonwy moves now fully into the crowd, the mask of solemnity dropping and his eyes darting quickly from face to face.
Mathonwy says, "On an... unrelated note, I am told I have the prestige of being among the last to present, at least as it pertains to the city-states."
Marisella frowns slightly, tilting her head to the side as she sinks into thought.
Mathonwy says humbly, "I cannot let this end without letting you all know how much admiration I have for everyone who has presented."
Mathonwy says, "Every showcase I have seen, I have found impressive."
Mathonwy says emphatically, "Over these last many months, the creativity you've all shown here over the course of this World's Fair, the relentless and endless adaptation of a way of life into a form of art..."
Mathonwy says, "It has been truly inspiring."
Mathonwy says, "You are truly very best your respective cities have to offer."
Mathonwy says slowly, "And yet..."
Mathonwy says, "What if you all were the rule, and not the exception? What kind of world would it be if everyone could be as inspired as you all are?"
Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum says, "Perhaps children wouldn't be murdered at cultural gatherings, for a start."
Mathonwy frowns and nods at Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum.
Tesha raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Mroxyl nods his head at Nissa, the Head Archivist of the Lucretian Athenaeum, showing his acceptance.
A smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child sniffles softly.
Skye whispers soothing words to a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child.
Mathonwy says, "For every moment of frustration you may have felt, every agonising second-guess you may have had to endure, what if that potential was made wholly manifest, available to you no matter the time?"
Mathonwy asks, "What if it were truly possible to be of the Order of the Sea -and- the Flaming Legion, fighting seamonsters all the while?"
Mathonwy gestures toward a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child fondly.
Opening his mouth wide, a smartly-dressed, tiny halfling child gapes in wonder at Mathonwy.
Mathonwy says, "Imagine the world, the cultures, that we could share, then. Imagine if the greatest barriers to that harmonious interplay of ideas and expression were removed."
Mathonwy says, "Imagine that what we have seen here, and my very speech itself, were the beginning of something, and not an end."
Mathonwy straightens his posture, assessing the mood of the crowd one final time.
Mathonwy says, "For all of you who have the curiosity, for those with the will to enact your vision upon a stubborn, dying world, or maybe simply those who'd like to keep it around and interesting just a fair while longer: know that the Black Gates of Ashtan await all who would cross their threshold."
Mathonwy says, "Thank you."
Also, fair food was really difficult to binge eat from since you had that delay timer for purchasing. Thank goodness there were carts!
And you won't understand the cause of your grief...
...But you'll always follow the voices beneath.
Or @Sothantos's dislike of xorani-human intermarriage.
Conflict isn't all formal speeches and scowling and PK. It's fleshing out the humanity of the inhuman that's the real appeal of this game.
And you won't understand the cause of your grief...
...But you'll always follow the voices beneath.
https://ada-young.appspot.com/pastebin/nHzSPpVe