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The Veiled Prophet - Sea Shanties | Forum

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The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Nov 6 '18
Fun fact about the sea: The Prophet doesn't care for it.
Iyeris of the Black Tide Supporter

enjoy!)

The Forum post is edited by Iyeris of the Black Tide Nov 6 '18
The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Nov 6 '18
"In the days before the Sanctum," he wrote. Time had never been so cleanly arrayed, though, had it? We and I and It had been confused and cross-contaminated for as long as he remembered. Will and dreaming-fire and the clever lies thereof were the only constants, the singular light which burned in the sky above, guiding the half-conscious whirling of his mind as much as the scrawling of his hand.


"Flicker, then, good light, and let the new ways be forged," he exhorted the amber torches and candles of the Temple. "And they shall be for your own benefit, for we have never led each other astray. Our dreams have always been one, and this is the hidden joy of the Thin Path." Light died in that moment, and the hand clutching the quill flew eagerly into motion, pouring the truth of the matter onto the page before the amber seeped into the walls again. Will, after all, was the crux of the matter, and Will had never meant being so enamored that small rebellions were out of the question.


"Die, good light, and let me compose our words in solitude." Out with the light; the Prophet must write.

Iyeris of the Black Tide Supporter

"the child")
Iyeris of the Black Tide Supporter

"false star")
The Forum post is edited by Iyeris of the Black Tide Nov 9 '18
The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Nov 12 '18


Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide
"the child")

There were days, long ago, that he would run beneath the weeping boughs of crooked trees and play games with spirits and search for the reflection of his face in brackish water. Abandoned to some, but nonetheless content to be so. When we know nothing else, contentment comes easily. He is wiser now, and worn thin from worry. The eccentricities of youth have found no place to rest within that aching golden shell. So why is it that on cold, still nights, when the wind can hardly bring itself to stir the water, he sees smaller shadows dancing in the witch-light of the swamp and a younger face, all but forgotten, watching from beneath the surface?

Colme Blackveil
Colme Blackveil Nov 26 '18
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The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Nov 26 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide
"false star")

A pinprick of amber that watches us at tangents and subgradients from the abyss in which it has nestled. It is transient, discursive, mercurial. A drop of quicksilver fallen from the mold in which its twin idol was cast and to which it refuses to be rejoined, for all it would entail. There were few in the old days and now there is one, though given time the sky might yet be stained and the hearts of those figments of our collective imagination used for the ink. The fortune of the Seekers is scrawled across the heavens, written in false stars. It is a promise of manufactured destiny, echoing through every corner of the Sanctum and whispered in a voice which is not our own.


The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Nov 28 '18

Quote from Caedun https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hviiGCkVMiY
There was a sort of beauty in his state, he supposed. The drowning of the Temple and snuffing out of the amber light had left him without place or purpose, wandering without end in search of what he had lost. He left the marsh far behind and for the first time was thrust into the role of weary traveler. No longer upheld by what he had lost, his legs grew sore and weak, his form withered with hunger, his immaculate golden carapace was left a tattered sallow mess.

Still, though, it was perhaps the first time in his life that he had truly seen the world around him. Blinded with purpose, he had taken to flitting about this way and that, preoccupied with grander things and matters of an altogether higher nature. In this way, perhaps the death throes of the Sanctum were a blessing in their own right. If this were true, however, why did he find himself changing course so frequently toward that dreary swamp? The answer, of course, was simple enough. A home is not so easily shed, the death of a part of oneself not so easily shrugged off. To leave is not always to escape.
The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Dec 5 '18

Quote from Colme Blackveil .


Quote from The Veiled Prophet
Quote from Caedun https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hviiGCkVMiY
There was a sort of beauty in his state, he supposed. The drowning of the Temple and snuffing out of the amber light had left him without place or purpose, wandering without end in search of what he had lost. He left the marsh far behind and for the first time was thrust into the role of weary traveler. No longer upheld by what he had lost, his legs grew sore and weak, his form withered with hunger, his immaculate golden carapace was left a tattered sallow mess.

Still, though, it was perhaps the first time in his life that he had truly seen the world around him. Blinded with purpose, he had taken to flitting about this way and that, preoccupied with grander things and matters of an altogether higher nature. In this way, perhaps the death throes of the Sanctum were a blessing in their own right. If this were true, however, why did he find himself changing course so frequently toward that dreary swamp? The answer, of course, was simple enough. A home is not so easily shed, the death of a part of oneself not so easily shrugged off. To leave is not always to escape.
And if there could be no escape, then there would be change. A shift in the tide, torn kicking and screaming from the depths of the Temple and thrust mercilessly into the light. It was an act of rage at its heart-- an expression of spite dressed in all the trappings of solemnity and esotericism. He cradled his own brass face, traced the embers in his eyes. It watched, lifeless, as it always had. Thus was his malice given form and set into motion-- a final grand scheme to bring an end to the woes of the Seekers. The golden face would eat its fill and the Sanctum would speak in its own voice. It would have always been so.
Pauleen Vernon
Pauleen Vernon Dec 5 '18
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The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Dec 6 '18

Quote from Pauleen Vernon .
During the flood, a wall in a forgotten corner of the Sanctum cracked and collapsed. From the opening, bits of scrimshaw rushed forth, covered in runes and phrases carved in ages past. The whalebone was followed shortly by smaller, more intricate pieces: a maxilla here, a sacrum there. They were well kept once, before being consigned to the space behind the wall. They served a purpose long ago, though it would seem that they had since been relieved of such duties. Still, though, that they continued to exist at all was evidence of either sentimentality or a great vindictiveness. While the details of their creation and the purpose they had held were lost to time-- if indeed they had ceased their service at all-- they were, each and all, answers in their own right. Each fragment that was dredged from its hiding place by the black water was a new word, strung together to reveal truths that might have been better left alone. Did the Prophet harbor any regrets? What were the dark figures that congregated at the fringes of one's vision in the deeper corners of the Sanctum? What became of the old Seekers that fell from their path?
The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Dec 19 '18

Quote from Colme Blackveil /
He kicked and screamed and tricked and dreamed his way into that first breath, bursting from marsh mud and cold water as fetid air tore its way through tenacity-christened lungs. He huddled in warrens and crumbling tunnels as he defined and shattered the outer limits of his perception-- a rat king to which lesser vermin flocked until they would all be twisted into the Gordian knot of something more-- and his tangled tales spread to ensnare yet more. It was a labor of love as much as self-preservation. With the world itself opened up for the first time, who would choose to remain caged? No, he had no intention of going back.
The Veiled Prophet
The Veiled Prophet Dec 20 '18

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "all is well, as long as we keep spinning."
One has to wonder if he had known-- if any of them had-- where the path would lead. The first step may well have set the course of the entire journey, charting the course through swamps and ships and catacombs and temples. "Predetermined" was, after all, a natural enough way to describe all the lives of the surrogates, even if the suggestion was at odds with everything he embodied. In spite of it all, the currents pulled them all along, spawned of their own actions or not. The signs were all there, rushing past as the end raced to meet them. The voyage itself was effortless, natural. Turning a blind eye, though? Now there was the trick.
The Veiled Prophet

Quote from Iyeris of the Black Tide "i know this fire brings me pain, even so-- and just the same."

Understand this: there has never been metamorphosis without tribulation. From the most paltry shift to the Sanctum-Betide-Incandescence, the impetus has ever been tragedy. Know further that the small miseries of these shells have built this world-- small brushstrokes in this grand image of ruin, clarity and definition brought along with each tear that falls. And fall they do, child. There is a reason the seas sting with salt. It is for this reason that the instruments of the Sanctum have been brought into being. There can be no Voice without understanding; this is the cruel truth underpinning your interment. Bring them to bear and know that sublimation approaches.


The words fade, though perhaps more slowly than one might expect from the muddled cries of a dream. Regardless, he is spurred to motion once more, gliding onward in spite of darkened skies and rain that tastes of salt.

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