Siege of the Atlas Talent Competition

I've seen the homes of those that burned my sisters destroyed. I've seen how the air smells of rancid acidic rancor of burned bodies. I'm delighted to say that it wasn't just my sisters I remember, but the families of those that caused my anguish. They should have listened to their fear. Sometimes fear is the right choice when confronting powers beyond your control.

In reflection... I see that I am different, but not so far from those that know fear and respond with violence. I've slain what were called gods. I knew fear at that time. Stared down the eyes of the one that was to be my "father." I found Innocence lacking... innocence. My "mother" Oraith is gone. Now, We are all Orphans, Dominus. We are now all Orphans.

Siris came and killed Our mother. So, I made him dead. I do love the dead. They do not talk back, and I've learned how to enjoy the solace of silence. It's usually a piercing sound that whines on endlessly into the late night, while I research. Fun times, though, the dead's groans that cut into the pitch darkness of the early morning can grate the nerves, but I digress.

Gods came; gods died. Simple to the point. Though, I can not figure out how to reanimate these beings. I can only conclude that some part of Thane's research is correct. Perhaps the darkness of mortals to make them 'alive' is different from the essence of gods.

In one of my tests to reanimate a dead god named, Abberath. While some part of his soul was granted to me by Sin. I have exhumed the remains of the cloven bastard. No manner of foul ritual or dark rites has any effect on this rotten corpse.

If it can rot, then it is dead. If it is dead, I can bring it back. It is my will.

Alas, this alludes me.

Sin came to visit me today. How he is able to cross the atlas and make way to my research lab come hideout within the old Elder's abode within the void still perplexes me to no end.

He asked if I could cease my perverse research, as he calls it, into the reanimation of gods. It seems it touches upon some cosmic law that no one thought to let me, or any other mortal knows.

In a fit of anger at having to discard research for months, I asked Sin who made these rules!

Sin could only tell me that there are forces at play that mortals do not know and do not need to know. That 'mortals' should not stray far from their island of ignorance for fear of drowning in the sea of dark alluring knowledge.

After a few good breaths and some brooding, I could only thank sin for being patient enough to answer my questions, but I have another question.

He agreed to answer as long as it didn't touch upon his brother, innocence.

After a brief laugh, I asked... "Dearest sweetest brother of languish, the sole survivor of your brother's wrath and my mother's death... Just how can knowledge be the death of me, when I make death follow me? If it wasn't for knowledge then how could I slay those that you pointed a finger at, my partner in crime? Is it the knowledge that you allowed, aided, and witness me kill, crush, and dismantle your goddess wife and daughter? Is that the knowledge you wish to not know? Is that the ocean you drown in? Because knowledge is what allowed me to make it to where I am now."

Sin spoke no more. He turned and left my abode, leaving me with a smelly corpse of a dead god, and several groaning zombies. I do wish Margret the zombie, would stop drooling over my research papers.

- Nightflower the Summoner

In retrospect, it might not have been the best of ideas to lash out against a being such as Sin.

Not because what I said wasn't true, but because what I said was true that it might have stroke a certain nerve. In contemplation, I can only surmise that if someone said something as offensive about my sisters, may their souls rest in the beyond, I, too, would not be in the best of moods, let alone leave for parts unknown.

Kirac was made known to me again. It wasn't as if he made his way to my abode, but Helen's newest sweetheart asked her to refer me to him. It appears that my services at making things dead are required. I do detest making things dead all the time. That's why I find regular breaks at making things 'alive' again so refreshing, right Margret? Margret has finally learned to keep her mouth shut, least I try to read between the lines of my latest research. How does the bastard Orphans put it? Keep a stiff upper lip?

That did not work for zombie test subject 68. I can not understand how a copper mouth would make the head permanently tilt at a 45-degree angle. I strengthened the neck muscles with a bit of thaumaturgy, but maybe a different metal, perhaps an alloy would work best. Copper failed. Perhaps I can find solace in Iron next, though, I thought the charm of verdigris upon subject 68's lips were sensual.

Ah, I digress.

Let this be the end of this quick note-taking. I find that if I keep a notebook of personal feelings, it makes deciphering my research a bit better, between the lines and all that. How did Zana put it? Keep sane? Still sane? I can't remember.

Now that I think about it... Where is Zana?

- Nightflower the Contemplative

Well, this is troubling.

Kirac made known to me that the Maven isn't the only other eldrich being attracted to our part of existence. Her Envoy has confided in Kirac, in the Envoy's own way, that two powers beyond the atlas have looked this way and are wanting.

I'm not surprised. Even the children of my late mother, Oraith, wanted what others had. Such a base reason.

You would think that entities that are supposed to be beyond reason and understanding are... Understandable, at least I think so.

What creature doesn't want more? More food? More land? More time? Etc.

Even I want more bodies, more tests, more research. If I can conquer the machinations known as death then maybe I can bring back-

Ahem, I should not write in ink.

Still, these beings want what is ours. I think I should make them dead, and see how they tick. This could just be another step on the long road of death.

I would ask Navali, but she seems to have disappeared, as well. I can't see Zana and Navali being an item... Two different from each other. Then did her goddess Hinekora call her back?

If I could I would strangle the location of Hinekora from Navali's dead lips, but whatever protections her goddess provides impedes my powers. Damn goddess of death knowns what I what, but eludes me. I, too, would be afraid of me. She must have greeted her brothers in the land of the dead, and who do you think sent them there?

Ahem, again I digress, perhaps I should have listened more to Navali's prophecies.

- Nightflower the Driven

It has been a while since I have written upon these pages.

I met the envoys of the Omniscient Flame and the Grasping Hunger. I made them dead. All dead.

It seems these days that envoys have envoys. Both the flame and the hunger has envoys that had envoys.

One stank of rot and swedge... Not one that was not uncommon to my nose. Funny, I thought this battle was the easiest, though other 'exiles' tell me it was not.

The other smelled of plasma in the way of the aftermath of a thunderstorm minus the wet earth smell. How clever this one was... She can continue to be clever in death. If death is a subject that these things can understand.

And that's my point. I've killed these envoys many times. Other Exiles have killed them.

The wanna-be priest of flames was stomped out of fire, and the brine-king's bastard brother was cooked up in a dish by me in the same way the Kauri cook up their seafood.

That was the worse weekend of my life. There is a jar of witch hazel in my home you do not want to know about.

If anyone reads this journey, I hate you for learning my inner thoughts but implore you to not eat eldritch horrors. It causes horrors of the stomach, much to my dismay.

If nothing else, the maven is having her fun. She has many champions, I, among many.

After decerning the odd speech of her envoy and herself, it seems she came here in the absence of the Elder. She knew that other beings would come and she knew she couldn't stop them. I believe the maven is a cosmic child of sorts, while these beings are older than time itself.

Was the maven just 'born' recently? What births such a being? The cryptic words of her envoy linger in my ears as whispers, as I continue to practice my craft within my abode.

I can't help but think that she watched over the would-be conquers as if they might be her champions in these cosmic battles of an over-glorified pissing contest between eldritch powers.

Since I and other Exiles made them dead... We are now her champions and must play the part if our part of existence wants to continue to do just that... exist.

On other thoughts, perhaps I should seek a significant other...

Though, I wonder if such a person, being, or entity could remain calm in my presence long enough to establish such a relationship. I've made dead most anything that has come across my path since a certain high templar made it his business to exile me. He, too, is dead.

Dead, dead, dead... Apt, apt, apt... Oh, how I miss the Gemling queen, may she rest with my sisters.

I digress, again. Too many thoughts, and not enough ink.

I think this time... Maybe I should try to see what's beyond this side of the Atlas, right Margret?

- Nightflower the Necromancer