Where?
An exploration of the third Postulate, because we do things backwards here.
At last, over halfway through our daring journey, across sights seen and unseen, allies common and forgotten, we have arrived at the border between creation and the great unmaking. The center of the City of Pleated Light and the Void. The digital garden of the Fourth Rider, the student of the twelve Zodiac Beasts, Kauma Gonjodonque. But that is the where, so trivial compared to the when. Early 317 AG, the clock turned backward to a time when the garden was more stable, and a guardian still watched over its door. Mining Team 6 lounges about in their prison on Varos, unaware that their lives are about to change forever...
Caesura: "Sorry. It gets more verbose with every vision."
Gonjo: "I thought it was lovely. Thank you, dreamscape." No, thank you. Caesura: "Let's not get distracted with the ego stroking. I'm told these guys get one of these every day. Could you imagine all that reading?" They actually percieve it like a television-- Caesura: "Save it!"
Gonjo: "I quite enjoy reading and writing. I envy them. So much free knowledge..."
Caesura: "Yes, well I'm sure they they love being interrupted in the middle of the night by vivid audiovisual lectures and nightmares." There was a pause in the conversation, and so Gonjo lifted a tea cup to his lips, savoring the aroma before pouring it over his tongue. It was the right blend of too hot and too cold, ginseng and jasmine exploding on his taste buds. It was a tea never sold, and difficult to get just right. A personal blend made by an old friend, often accompanied by funnel cakes. Gonjo: "It's uncanny, truly. I wasn't even thinking about him--"
Caesura: "Are we making a short story or a novella here?" Gonjo looked sheepishly at Caesura, and put his mug back down on the table. Gonjo: "Apologies. Apart from Lily conversations are rare, and you run out of novel topics across the millenia."
Caesura: "Right... Where is she, by the way?" Gonjo looked out, to the hedges that surrounded the center of his gardens, over the sprawling paths that cut through the flower beds, made up of plants both familiar and imagined. A black cat was pawing at a cluster of butterflies off in the distance, but there was no sign of his beloved. Gonjo: "Being the spirit of the tree, only I am bound to the System. She comes and goes as she pleases." Caesura nodded, his thoughts brooding-- Caesura: "Haze." For a moment, one of the Alignmatist's eyes flickered, a different color blue and then back again, his voice cold. Then the lazy smile resurfaced, and the conversation continued -- with Gonjo politely ignoring the blip. Caesura: "Anyway... I need to find him, Gonjo. I know you made a deal with the Centurion. I know he's in the big sphere, but I don't have time to search a planet and all its demiplanes." Gonjo stiffened at the mention of his deal with the Centurion, an old argument stoking the beast inside. Gonjo: "You've come to me at the right time--"
Caesura: "Naturally."
Gonjo: "--things have turned... Sour. The Centurion has broken his promise. His players are no longer unique constructs -- he's started overriding existing minds."
Caesura: "Why don't you kick him out?"
Gonjo: "The fallout. I could, but I fear what he could accomplish before I removed his Admin rights." Caesura scoffed, one eyebrow climbing skyward. Caesura: "You gave him equal rights?"
Gonjo: "Not really. I possess the full suite, but the Centurion has access to most. He drove a hard bargain..."
Caesura: "And what exactly did you need so badly, that you would compromise your life's work?"
Gonjo: "The Codex of Whispers." Caesura paused, his next question faltering, as realization swarmed in his mind. The Codex of Whispers, the Cult of the Elder Mythos instruction manual on manipulating Vacuus in all its forms. Rumor states that to own it was to have mastery of the Void... Caesura: "The next evolution. A way out for Golarion." Gonjo nodded. Gonjo: "When Rovagug broke free, a little piece of him was left behind. Some would call it his mind, but I believe it more correct to call it a core. The fundamental principle by which he functioned. The Devourer is the result -- a baby Azathoth, another blind idiot god."
Caesura: "You're trying to fix it."
Gonjo: "Got it in one. With the Codex, I'd hoped to separate the core from Golarion, and craft a new prison in the Void. Then the planet would be free to return to the Material Plane, and rejoin the cosmos."
Caesura: "So what's stopping you?" Gonjo's expression soured, a name leaping unprotected from his thoughts. A king in black and gold, shoulder-length white hair framing serpent-like eyes. The weight of a thousand lifetimes drifting behind them, ready to strike at the next obstacle in their path. Caesura: "Kesil. He has the core, and he won't let it go. What is it?"
Gonjo: "It would be more accurate--" Caesura winced, a little more of that coldness rising back to the surface. The garden around him digitized, sparks of information morphing with Gonjo's confusion. The conversation reels back in his mind, and then realization dawns.
A cut in the vision. Caesura attempts to hide, and blot out this portion of the dream. But I am the Haze, and I know where to keep my secrets.
Caesura shifted back in his chair, attempting to look relaxed, and raised a placating hand. Gonjo's eyes were aflame with rage, fangs jutting between his lips. He was one step away from violence, and so Caesura chose every word with care. Caesura: "Where is Rufus Geldenleaf?"
Gonjo: "The Grotto. It's a demiplane attached to the Barrow Garden, underneath Absalom." Caesura stood, and bowed his head low, his forehead almost reaching back to the table. Caesura: "Thank you." Gonjo didn't reply. The Alignmatist Skipped into Golarion with the Admin's permission, leaving the garden behind. The vision fades...
Gonjo: "I thought it was lovely. Thank you, dreamscape." No, thank you. Caesura: "Let's not get distracted with the ego stroking. I'm told these guys get one of these every day. Could you imagine all that reading?" They actually percieve it like a television-- Caesura: "Save it!"
Gonjo: "I quite enjoy reading and writing. I envy them. So much free knowledge..."
Caesura: "Yes, well I'm sure they they love being interrupted in the middle of the night by vivid audiovisual lectures and nightmares." There was a pause in the conversation, and so Gonjo lifted a tea cup to his lips, savoring the aroma before pouring it over his tongue. It was the right blend of too hot and too cold, ginseng and jasmine exploding on his taste buds. It was a tea never sold, and difficult to get just right. A personal blend made by an old friend, often accompanied by funnel cakes. Gonjo: "It's uncanny, truly. I wasn't even thinking about him--"
Caesura: "Are we making a short story or a novella here?" Gonjo looked sheepishly at Caesura, and put his mug back down on the table. Gonjo: "Apologies. Apart from Lily conversations are rare, and you run out of novel topics across the millenia."
Caesura: "Right... Where is she, by the way?" Gonjo looked out, to the hedges that surrounded the center of his gardens, over the sprawling paths that cut through the flower beds, made up of plants both familiar and imagined. A black cat was pawing at a cluster of butterflies off in the distance, but there was no sign of his beloved. Gonjo: "Being the spirit of the tree, only I am bound to the System. She comes and goes as she pleases." Caesura nodded, his thoughts brooding-- Caesura: "Haze." For a moment, one of the Alignmatist's eyes flickered, a different color blue and then back again, his voice cold. Then the lazy smile resurfaced, and the conversation continued -- with Gonjo politely ignoring the blip. Caesura: "Anyway... I need to find him, Gonjo. I know you made a deal with the Centurion. I know he's in the big sphere, but I don't have time to search a planet and all its demiplanes." Gonjo stiffened at the mention of his deal with the Centurion, an old argument stoking the beast inside. Gonjo: "You've come to me at the right time--"
Caesura: "Naturally."
Gonjo: "--things have turned... Sour. The Centurion has broken his promise. His players are no longer unique constructs -- he's started overriding existing minds."
Caesura: "Why don't you kick him out?"
Gonjo: "The fallout. I could, but I fear what he could accomplish before I removed his Admin rights." Caesura scoffed, one eyebrow climbing skyward. Caesura: "You gave him equal rights?"
Gonjo: "Not really. I possess the full suite, but the Centurion has access to most. He drove a hard bargain..."
Caesura: "And what exactly did you need so badly, that you would compromise your life's work?"
Gonjo: "The Codex of Whispers." Caesura paused, his next question faltering, as realization swarmed in his mind. The Codex of Whispers, the Cult of the Elder Mythos instruction manual on manipulating Vacuus in all its forms. Rumor states that to own it was to have mastery of the Void... Caesura: "The next evolution. A way out for Golarion." Gonjo nodded. Gonjo: "When Rovagug broke free, a little piece of him was left behind. Some would call it his mind, but I believe it more correct to call it a core. The fundamental principle by which he functioned. The Devourer is the result -- a baby Azathoth, another blind idiot god."
Caesura: "You're trying to fix it."
Gonjo: "Got it in one. With the Codex, I'd hoped to separate the core from Golarion, and craft a new prison in the Void. Then the planet would be free to return to the Material Plane, and rejoin the cosmos."
Caesura: "So what's stopping you?" Gonjo's expression soured, a name leaping unprotected from his thoughts. A king in black and gold, shoulder-length white hair framing serpent-like eyes. The weight of a thousand lifetimes drifting behind them, ready to strike at the next obstacle in their path. Caesura: "Kesil. He has the core, and he won't let it go. What is it?"
Gonjo: "It would be more accurate--" Caesura winced, a little more of that coldness rising back to the surface. The garden around him digitized, sparks of information morphing with Gonjo's confusion. The conversation reels back in his mind, and then realization dawns.
A cut in the vision. Caesura attempts to hide, and blot out this portion of the dream. But I am the Haze, and I know where to keep my secrets.
Caesura shifted back in his chair, attempting to look relaxed, and raised a placating hand. Gonjo's eyes were aflame with rage, fangs jutting between his lips. He was one step away from violence, and so Caesura chose every word with care. Caesura: "Where is Rufus Geldenleaf?"
Gonjo: "The Grotto. It's a demiplane attached to the Barrow Garden, underneath Absalom." Caesura stood, and bowed his head low, his forehead almost reaching back to the table. Caesura: "Thank you." Gonjo didn't reply. The Alignmatist Skipped into Golarion with the Admin's permission, leaving the garden behind. The vision fades...
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