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[Strange notes have been left here and there about the distant lands of the Great Ring. They are left in bookshelves and scroll cases, in tavern corners and inn nooks, where only the sharp-eyed or well-read are likely to see them. The message is left unsigned.]

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[IV.]

IV.

Mia Cara Sorella,

My master has lost her latest gambit. Perhaps it is for the best that her price was too high. What they asked her to do would have cost us all.

My hidden mentor, whose long elfin years called him to hermitage, has fled into Ash with all his forbidden teachings.

My predecessors and peers have been slaughtered in the shadows, or hurled from the Tower, their works censured and forgotten.

Ten Swords are reversed into the eagle's nest. Q'tolip's house is not in order.

It recalls my time beneath the Lamp of Learning. My tutor then was a man called Cecco, an Artificer-Priest of some acclaim. He would often depart across the Sea for weeks at a time, only to return with strange findings. Grim totems and ashen relics, at first. Later, fragments of old machinery, and specimens of living things. Things that should not have been, their flesh intertwined with gears and plates. Things whose bones were pistons, whose blood was oil.

In the months that followed, I watched Cecco's mind decay as he told me many fantastical tales. He came to believe the Disc was a hell of nine layers; that we were artificial creatures made by a long-departed machine race; that our destiny was to seed the stars. He worked behind layers of traps and puzzles, holing himself up in oubliettes that none could find. In the final throes of his madness, when he could barely walk or write without aid, he presented one of his "creations" to the Grand Duke's winter carnival, and proclaimed himself the Sage Giacomo incarnate.   

It was then that la Inspecta arrested Cecco before all the Duke's subjects, charging him with mechanistic works. They claimed they had watched him for years, waiting until he finally condemned himself with gormless abandon. To this day, I believe it was all part of the Game they play, to make an example of the Mad Sage, and to drive his disciples into the shadows.

But they would not be so patient with me.

Wow, didn't see this one coming!

Thanks to Celybuin, I'm now convinced that elf warlocks make the best crazy step-uncles. I also personally learned a lot of v6 server mechanics through our RP. But there was always more behind the curtain, and I'm very much going to miss his air of forbidden knowledge.

Take a well-earned break and best of luck with the next one!

I'll be out Friday through Monday.

[What is the Way of the Divine Dome?]

Religious polemics have seized Baz'eel's prized satrapy in a chokehold. Priests of the Wheel, descending from the wastes like a storm of Ash, bellow day and night to decry the humble presence of the Modini in Ephia's Well. Their grievance? The Way of the Divine Dome: the faith of that floating city which once bested Baz'eel in the terrible War of Pearls. But let us now reflect on a motif that underpins the religious practices of both Dome and Wheel, forgotten by history. Specifically, the shape we give to the heavens: the Dome itself.

What is the Way of the Divine Dome?

The faith of the Dome is rooted in cosmology. According to Modini tradition, the universe is composed of a single crystalline sphere that surrounds all things and is itself the source of all creation, time, and movement. It is this sphere (or Dome) that gives form, structure, and meaning to the universe. The world is but a speck (perhaps one of many such specks) that floats suspended in the mysterious vapors of the Dome's interior. The stars above, or Illuminations, are those souls that have ascended to the firmament above. The most learned and wise of these Illuminations are beloved as guides: the Sages.

A simplified view of the Divine Dome

The modern priests of the Wheel, many of them mere imitators of the original Ashfolk faith, often denounce what they perceive as the hubris of Modini beliefs. They wail and tremble upon hearing that souls of the mortal dead may one day ascend to join the heavens as deities. But architectural history tells us a different story: that such beliefs were once commonplace across the Great Ring, championed by the priests of the Ashfolk god Izdu, known as the Magi, and that the dome was their preferred shape to honor their ancestors. Herein lie my assembled studies on the subject, which has long been ignored by the Ephian historians of the Sandstone College.

The Dome & Izdu

We know that domes in general represent the celestial vault, a camera obscura, a microcosm. The prototype of all semispherical domes, before their invention by the progresses of architecture, was the tholos, a corbel construction with a narrow opening at its zenith, also called a false vault. Such structures were first built for honoring the dead — a notion we will revisit shortly. But it will do us well to reflect that this design is not unique to Il Modo. In fact, the Ashfolk tutors of Izdu describe these monuments to us when they visit our fair Well to conduct their religious lessons. One such Izdur by the name of Ibal readily told me of a sacred tower in Baz'eel built precisely to receive and measure the light of the Moon.

This Izdur gladly shared with me his studies of this monument, which in fact bears the shape of a tholos. I have replicated his illustration below. When the moonlight descends on the wall of the domic tower's well, it creates a ladder of light by hitting the edges of the stone rows within. The extent of the light fallen within the well may then be measured in alignment with a sacred rock positioned at the center, said to be covered in Erugitic characters. Let us now remember this symbology for later on, when we discuss the Modini belief in the soul's ascent, described as scalam ad astra, or ladder to the stars. Likewise recall that sacred night of the Murid, Tesrin Hray the 3rd, called "the Illuminations," on which the great domed lighthouses in Baz'eel are lit in imitation of the stars, to celebrate the knowledge they impart to us.

But this is precisely where the association of early domes with the dead becomes especially important for the history of the Great Ring.

The Muridian Tholos of Baz'eel

The Domic Maqbara

Indeed, from observation of ruins all across the Ash, it soon becomes clear that the basic shape of the dome was initially a reproduction of ancestral cave shelters used as mausoleums for the dead. The instinctive desire to repeat this practice resulted in widespread domical mortuary traditions across the Great Ring, beginning first with simple mounds in which the dead were interred, followed soon after by the mudbrick tholos. By the end of the Age of Caliphs, these domic structures had been refined into the modern, customary shape of the maqbara, as seen in Ephia's Well and elsewhere.

The Ephian Maqbara

In the process of transforming these tombs from their original earthen materials into more permanent stone construction, the domic shape had also become associated with celestial and cosmic significance, as evident from decorations such as the glass window atop the maqbara's peak, from which the souls of the dead may rise to join the stars as deities in their own right. This cosmological thinking undoubtedly popularized the use of domes to imitate the shape of the heavens themselves, which appeared as an arched vault when tracing the paths of celestial bodies across the sky. This is further evidenced by images of stars and celestial chariots often etched onto the ceilings of domed tombs.

The Dome of Man Across the Ash

However, we also see evidence of this in the world of secular rule. Throughout the nomadic tribes of the Great Ring, the dome has long been symbolic of the tent of the ruler, and especially of the gods who dwell in the tent of the heavens. To these peoples, the tent represented perfection, eternity, and the heavens, not so differently from the great Dome of Man erected upon Il Modo to honor our Sages. From this same origin, we can trace a direct line to the minarets of the Caliphal towers in Baz'eel, the Sunken Spires to the north of Ephia, and presumably the Summer Palace itself. The heights of these domed structures once symbolized the lords of the Ash striving toward the heavens, where they might become Illuminations themselves in remembered greatness — a fact now conveniently forgotten by the votaries of the Wheel.

Such cosmic interpretations of the Dome have thusly originated and persisted well beyond Il Modo and the Sea of Pearls, perhaps even hinting at a more fundamental truth of celestial geometry and the fate of our immortal souls.

A domed minaret, common to both Ephia and Baz'eel

Please also add a trash barrel at the entrance and exit of every quest zone so that I can offload and onload. These Nadiri noodle arms aren't made for carrying loot, you know.

[III.]

III.

Kha'esh burns. I can see its fires in the distance, and smell its ruin in the air. There were many souls released upon the rising of that red dawn, each to be recycled anew, if what they say is true.

What paths might I have taken, in another life?

Symeon went with me to the Dome of Man, his own pilgrimage overdue. We both took the tests administered by the priests there. It was a strange affair. We were given odd items; a compass, a spyglass, a paintbrush, and others. They asked which one belonged to us. Not which one we desired to keep, but which of them was already ours. But none of these things belonged to me.

Symeon picked the compass, which seemed to be a good choice, as he was soon accepted as an acolyte of Sage Markolo, the Navigator. Despite his urgings, I refused to lie, and asked them how their test was marked. This appeared to upset them. After much deliberation, they cast me aside to the Lamp of Learning, my questions to be handled by the Artificers.

I know there was no such chance for you, mia cara sorella, and that Fortuna made a fickle mother to us both. But with all that came after, I hope you are keeping well, and that Symeon has not abandoned you, as I have.

I am sorry.

Celybuin,

I apologize for the delay in my reply - it has taken some time for your letter to reach me. The caravans were held up by the destruction in Kha'esh, which I was unfortunate enough to witness on the distant horizon, but fortunate enough to escape. So too I received word of Ahmet's victory once the smoke settled in Ephia. It is a strange thing, to be in isolation and apart from such conclusive blows.

But there is a clarity that comes to me beneath myriad stars, alone. Something like reverence stirs within me, difficult to describe. Though my work is in many ways a challenge of faith, I cannot fault my people for following such guiding lights.

When the first Modini set out upon the Sea of Pearls, it was the pilots, the captains, and the navigators who saw them through to salvation. Later, the inventors and artisans ensured that their fleets flourished and multiplied. In those nights, our only religion was one of unfettered discovery, our greatest minds held in equal esteem. But whatever happened to the clarity of survival, and the thrill of wonder?

I will tell you. They were replaced by the Game of Knives, and the terrors of the Inspecta, and the Crimson Death. The needs of the people then forgotten, the forces of curiosity and invention soon replaced by cynicism and indolence.

Perhaps some sense of reverence is missing from the ranks of Q'tolip as well. Or if we must avoid such language, then call it passion for the unknown. In my short time here, I have seen us play cat-and-mouse with the rest of the Accord, gamble with cursed relics, and force a man to the seat of Legate. Quick and rough victories, if necessary. But rarely have I seen us break new ground, save for a few brilliant moments best unmentioned by letter.

To languish in distractions is not our true path, I think, any more than Il Modo now follows the Way of its fathers. Perhaps it is a product of my human naivete, but I believe our destiny is something far greater than this, even as the world dies around us.

I hope you are keeping well among the turmoil, mi amico, and that we may resume these conversations in person soon enough.

[II.]

II.

Alone in the wastes north of Ephia, a stray wind brings me the smell of salt water, and I think of the days you would braid your hair with seaweed and try to convince the sailors from Qadira that you were a siren. Foolish and bold - we are both alike in that way.

Father was still an eel-monger then, and mother a net-mender, though even so she was more than that to others, a soothsayer perhaps, or even a Luckfisher. As you remember, I took to her charmed strangeness much more than Symeon did, and while he was desperate to win father's approval at sea, I was always and forever at her side, learning the trionfi, or cartomancy, as they call it in distant Baz'eel. I showed an aptitude for predicting when the catch would be large or small, and for knowing how to rig the nets to increase the yield. I even foretold the day they should have stayed home, a man lost to the Underdome when they refused to heed the warnings of a child.

It was not long after that they urged me to pledge my faith before the Dome of Man, and commit myself to a Sage, lest the worst be assumed by ignorant folk.

But you never assumed.

[I.]

I.

When I first sought the Well, I simply wished to live somewhere less perilous than my own home.

Now, many sennights later, I have learned that the Ephians play their own Games, and they are no less lethal than ours.

Given the risks I have taken to get here, and the many dangers in my work yet to come, I hereby dedicate this account of my life to you, dear sister, and to all kindred souls who seek truths forgotten and unknown.

Will be gone on vacation starting on the 7th and returning on the 15th. Planning to keep an eye on the forums here and there in the meantime.