Origins of the Ancients by dotauber on June 27, 2015

A Meeting Outside of Time

Kaldr had a plan. From worlds away his icy tendrils reached, slowing minds, affecting the course of events, patiently taking the beings of the planet one step closer to the finality he envisioned. One of these creatures, the violet man-without-eyes named Darkterror, would become the next pawn of that cold embrace.

The Faceless Void, with his sharpened temporal cognizance, was acutely aware of the unusual fog that suddenly penetrated his mind. The mental intrusion was disturbing and he hastened to eliminate its presence. Through the stygian edge of a galactic plane he walked, past the Outworld, searching for the force that had summoned him from the void. Many years transpired in the world of the warring Ancients, but for Darkterror it felt like only a few minutes before he was able to find Kaldr, in projected form, floating in the cosmos upon a comet of shade. Though meek in appearance, the energy emanating from the Ancient Apparition was immense.

Coming closer to the being inflicted Darkterror with a foreign sense of lethargy. While usually clear of mind, his mental state became obfuscated next to Kaldr. He realized that acquiring truth would, paradoxically, require him to relinquish cognition.

“Greetings, Darkterror.”

The visitor from Claszureme grimaced. “Kaldr, release your hold on my thoughts.”

“But you knew this would happen. Of course, not the precise details, but the lack thereof. This curious lapse in your foresight is what brought you here.”

“Never before have my visions been clouded.”

“Soon your mastery of chronologies will continue as normal. I requested your presence for only a simple matter. Take the Chronoptic Crystals that I gathered aeons ago from the Shattering. Deliver them to the philosopher, Leshrac. Unleash him.”

“Have we enough space in this strife for another Elemental?” The reason behind the request was shrouded by Kaldr’s bind over Darkterror’s mind, and the idea of creating another power-infused entity was even more bewildering.

“A shift in balance is… inevitable. New forces must be added over the course of an everlasting conflict.” Further explanation to the being whom he now controlled was unnecessary. After all, how could the inexorable fate of the universe be conveyed to a man who believes he can change the future? “Perform my request and your sight will return.”

The Awakening of Leshrac, the Tormented Soul

Reading among stacks of aged scrolls and tomes at the center of an ancient library, the dimly-lit papers around Leshrac were shuffled by a sudden gust of air that came from behind his field of view. Bolstered with confidence by a lifetime of study, the four-legged scholar continued to examine the manuscript he held.

“Has the hour of my death so quickly arrived?” Leshrac said, without turning.

“No.”

The response piqued Leshrac’s curiosity. So insolent in its bold simplicity. Any day now he was expecting jealous interlopers to prematurely end his inquiry into the rare works by which he was surrounded. He turned to examine the intruder and questioned, “Then why, may I ask, have you disturbed my studies, faceless one?” He had previously read, of course, about the time-distorting entity.

Darkterror brought forward a branch of stone covered in light blue crystals. “I have acquired the Chronoptic Crystals,” he said. A beam of light coming down from a hole in the domed ceiling made the core of each crystal shine an alien pale red color.

Leshrac shifted uncomfortably as he stared at the object. “From what realm did you receive such a treasure?” he asked. Long ago, in some of his earliest studies, he had learned about the myth of the Shattering and the subsequent formation of the Crystals. But at the time it seemed nothing more than that – merely a myth. Strange and powerful entities, known within certain circles as the Fundamentals, were supposedly involved.

“A place more similar to mine than yours, where no mere philosopher can travel.”

Just as Kaldr had caused immense discomfort to Darkterror earlier, in a similar manner Leshrac’s normally calm demeanor was shaken by these words. Bumping into a stack behind him with widening eyes, Leshrac quickly stammered, “W-why have you brought them here? What do you want from me?”

“Nothing… yet. An entity with no temporal reality has little use for what the Crystals reveal.” He was ultimately more concerned with a different set of stones. “I understand your thirst for knowledge is immense and you are reaching the limits of your feeble physical existence. You will find these beneficial.”

Darkterror understood the accuracy of what he spoke to the narrow-minded goatman was meaningless. The influence of his words was simply a matter of how they were delivered, and by whom. That was why he was chosen – and manipulated – by Kaldr. There was no need to reveal to the philosopher his true reason for coming.

Leshrac paused for a moment to think. He remembered the powers of the being to which he was speaking. “I suppose you have foreseen the outcome of this exchange.”

“Yes,” Darkterror lied with an unwavering voice, Though he remained disturbed by his meeting with Kaldr and the resulting mental lethargy, the Faceless Void’s insecurities were outwardly invisible. From one entity to another, the hierarchical power imposition would continue. “All possible consequences of your decision befit me.”

“Then I suppose the choice is easy. Your observation is correct; there is not much left I can accomplish in this mortal form. Because you have chosen to meddle in the affairs of a corporeal being it is clear the Crystals will elevate me to a form that you find more significant.” Leshrac always found a way to rationalize events. “The power of the Crystals is far too intriguing to deny. A lifetime I have dedicated to knowing a mere fraction of the truth that is said to be contained therein, and I am tormented by my unknowing. Place them here.”

“As you wish.”

“I hope, one day, to transcend my limitations and free myself from what binds me to the temporality you play with as a mere toy.”

“Ah, but you will soon transcend in a far different manner.”

Before he could be questioned further, a blister of time opened, imperceptible to the four-legged scholar, and Darkterror vanished instantaneously into the void.

“Hmph.”

Leshrac directed his attention to the branch of crystals lying before him on the table. He stared at the glowing object for a few moments before stepping closer.

“To know the truth of nature is all that I desire,” he said to himself as he scanned the countless stacks of disintegrating parchment around him; a collection that spanned a lifetime. “I must be freed from this affliction.”

Without hesitation, the philosopher grasped the Chronoptic Crystals. The light above dimmed and the ground rumbled beneath his feet as he willed their force into his being.

“Yes… I will become complete!”

Pulses of radiating energy appeared around Leshrac as his body painfully writhed and contorted in sporadic movements. The branch of minerals flowed into his arms and created red crystalline features upon his torso, shoulders, and head. Merging into his own existence, the crystals stained the rest of his flesh the color of a clear blue sky.

As his body transformed, the mind of Leshrac entered the noumenal realm of nature’s fundamental core. There he witnessed the truth he had sought – but its qualities confounded everything he previously learned. Nature, he could see, is far from pure. The elements and creatures of that previously-known reality are constituted by a random mixing of vile impurities.

He then knew that he did not know. His focus was too narrow before, his methodologies too limited. The world is a product of chaos, not reason. His previous efforts were pointless excursions directed at false conclusions.

Existence is damnation. To purge others of their elements would be the ascended being’s new purpose. His mandate would be to disrupt all that he had once tried to understand and act as a harbinger of this true reality. He would teach others about the eternal torture that truth only perpetuates.

The writings Leshrac once studied had been blasted to the surrounding walls of the room, leaving the transformed being alone in the middle. Bathed in impure light, he raised his front hooves into the air and cried, “They will share my torment!”

Fundamental Aid

“Gah!” Tequoia awoke with a start. He had been nestling against an old fir tree, underneath a snow-covered canopy. The place where the first trees were planted with loving care by the goddess Verodicia would always be his home. But in that moment, within their aged souls, he sensed a deep-rooted trouble.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes. What happened? He was awakened by a sudden ache – a disturbance in the natural world. Peering deeper, he could see a force was transferred to a new plane in which it didn’t belong, disrupting the balance he fought year-after-year to maintain. The hibernation of the forest guardian would have to come to an early end.

It would be impossible to engage in the upcoming fight alone, for the energy emanating from this being was immense. Many times he had assisted others; now it was his turn to call for their help.

The Nature’s Prophet brushed his fingers one last time against the old, gnarled bark of the tree he had used as a resting place. Grabbing his staff, he then raised it above his head and channeled a teleportation. After a few seconds he disappeared from the forest, leaving behind a gentle puff of leaves where he previously stood.

The One was reshaping a mountain when Nature’s Prophet appeared on its peak.

Looking up from his work, the Elder Titan gave a courteous nod. “Hail, son of Verodicia.”

“Hello, world-builder.”

“To what do I owe this visit?”

Nature’s Prophet was confused by his air of nonchalance. “You’re unable to sense it? The changes that are taking place within the core of this realm?”

“My focus has been elsewhere.”

“Open your eyes, Titan. For too long you have tinkered with the shape of the mountains or the precise bends of the rivers.”

“You know I have much to repair, after what occurred in the Shattering.” He turned to examine the ancestral rock visible on a cliffside. “Leave me be. Am I not the one who made your forests beautiful?”

Nature’s Prophet looked out from the mountaintop, across the wide expanse he helped govern. “They won’t be beautiful for much longer. I’m afraid you’ve fallen further than I thought, my old friend. You must look at the deeper problems. Feel the reverberations caused by this mortal’s transformation. He is a planeswalker now. The minor changes you seek can come at another time. The very fabric holding together the symmetry you manifest is in danger!”

“Do not berate me, Prophet! Nothing you hold so dear would have come into existence without my work.”

“But you do such world-building no longer. Depart from these minor adjustments and come help me create a bigger change. Leave your signature upon the natural world once again.”

“I will deliberate.”

The Prophet sighed as he left to seek other help.

The Battle of Augury Bay

For quite some time the Treant Protectors had listened to the screams of their people, echoing across the valley from the east. But there was never a way to reach them. They weren’t particularly mobile, and that was quite a hike. An unusually warm season, however, provided them with an opportunity to travel to the site of the anguish and eliminate its cause.

Though only a few beings in the world could sense the transcendence of the philosopher, the event was producing worldwide effects. The Northern Glaciers were melting, causing the oceans to rise. Coastal regions of the world became flooded, and while many seaside villages were resilient enough to withstand the power of the water, none were prepared to handle what the waters could bring.

The bay was once edged by many acres of forest. Coming from the sea, the first of the small-keen settlers used their clever machinery to cut from this edge a great swath of empty land, and built a city in its place. There they prospered for many generations by shipping the great lumber of the forest across the sea to other civilizations, who valued the durability and beauty of the wood.

When the waters suddenly came, flooding happened quickly. There was little time for the workers of Augury Bay to return to their homes and protect their families, so they were forced to leave their tools behind in the forests near the lumber mills. This provided the Treant Protectors with a significant advantage in the upcoming massacre.

They floated across the flooded valley to fight for their brethren. Over half of the trees in the forest had already been mutilated: Chopped, felled, processed, shipped, and transformed into a greater number of tools with which to destroy nature. It was a disgusting cycle that had to end; starting in this little bay.

As the waters retreated, the people of the bay came out of their homes to inspect the wreckage. From their hiding places in the forest, where they blended in with their rooted counterparts, the Treants then revealed their guises. They smashed the gates of the city and charged at the poorly-equipped creatures. Just a few had saws and axes with which to defend themselves. It was a slaughter that only one lucky individual survived.

“Go to my workshop, Rizzrack! You’ll be safe there!” The young boy’s uncle shouted at the frightened child while he pulled an axe off of the wall above the fireplace.

“B-but you have to come with me!” Rizzrack cried.

“No, I need to defend the city.”

“Let me fight with you!”

“You’re too small. Take whoever you can find with you to the shop. Hide there until the battle is over.”

The small-keen boy was frozen in place until his uncle shouted, “Go!”

Rizzrack stumbled through alleyways, avoiding the trees that were pummeling people in every street. Held down by roots that gripped their feet, there was nothing they could do but scream. Death was everywhere. The treants were enacting their revenge.

“No, no, no, no!”

He tripped over both roots and bodies alike as he made his way to the workshop. Panting, he locked himself inside and fell down to the ground, unable to process what he had witnessed.

Through tear-filled eyes he looked around at the sheet metal strewn about. His uncle’s words echoed in his head.

You’re too small.

He saw the gears and chains that hung from the walls.

You’re too small.

On the table laid an array of sharpened discs. Sawblades.

You’re too small.

In that moment, after experiencing the culling of his people, something snapped in the little boy’s mind.

“Heh…” Despite the horror, he emitted a laugh.