Arymathras' Anecdotes

[caesaropapist]

hab·er·dash·er·y
[ˈhabərˌdaSHərē]
noun
haberdashery (noun) · haberdasheries (plural noun)
BAZ'EELI STANDARD ASHTONGUE
men's clothing and accessories.
a shop in which men's clothing and accessories are sold.

Tammuz 29th, IY 778

All my woes in Ephia's Well are owed to a hat. Could there be a more cruel and senseless irony? I came here to acquire antiquities, to investigate the cultural mythos of the Orentese, to find timeless artifacts of dead cultures Formorian and Titan-born. Instead I have been beaten, kidnapped, scammed, and otherwise troubled owed to some "gift" the Banda Rossa offered to me.

But we survive, I suppose; if not because, in spite of some Brooking haberdasherer. I will survive and outgrow their suspicions. I will become a name that is recognized; a scholar of some repute, with an esteemably impressive collection of artifacts which will be paraded through Baz'eeli courtrooms and sit before the thrones of Caliphs. Perhaps in the mean time, I will make friends of the least savage of these foreign faces, and find at least one or two men I can put my trust in.

The Great Work continues, and with it, I will complete the Idrisian manuscript of the Occult.
The Corpus Hermetica will be whole again.

[caesaropapist]

Maribeh 3rd

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
And more importantly, I hate HIM! My new Boss is already insufferable.
It was one mispriced license, and every other word out of his mouth was an obnoxious, drawn-out 'mmh' and CONDESCENDING towards me.

I don't even want to be a Scribe. I'm just tired of starving and freezing and starving and not having a bed to sleep in. I need money. Every since the BANDA ROSSA ruined me, I've had NOTHING! NOTHING to my name! My only hope for financial success comes from selling licenses, signing paperwork, and pretending like I care about whatever Legate Gloamingdaith or that SMUG ASS Bashir is talking about.

I don't! Burn in Hellfire!

But for now, I really don't have any choice. I have to just keep working and making money and putting on an expression of indifference. The first good things are starting to happen to me since I found Ephia's Well. I found an assistant! And I don't even hate talking to him! He barely talks. It's a blessing. It's a real blessing, and he's got plenty of things I don't: like friends. And money.

I'm almost in a good mood! I found some fascinating paintings in a digsite, about the fall of the Caliphate, the White Spear and-- Vahd? And someone else, deep beneath the earth, studying old books. Kind of like me, right now: trapped in a musty basement as I'm writing this. I'm going to write to that friend I met. Mr. Lorincreve.

Hope he's interested in working together. I'm tired of being poor.

[caesaropapist]

MARIBEH 6th

Everything is proceeding according to plan.

I have placed myself at the center of a gravitational anomaly. An intermediary between Sisterhood and the Well, the Gold League and the White League; between the Sandstone and the Astronomers. With every passing day, my roots sink slightly deeper into Ephia's Well. I'm still poor; I'm still destitute, and I'm still struggling, but things are beginning to look up for me.

It's hard to tell what the future holds. Qari tells me I should focus on my scholarship. That in due time, I could easily be the voice of the educated within the Well. That the people will come to me, so I will no longer need to grovel and beg for scraps. And to an extent: I agree!

But that's the beautiful thing about me, that my Master used to compliment.
When you give me an inch, I make sure I get to take a League.

I have acquired the journal that will lead me to Henry Morganbilt. That will lead me to the truth of the Eye. To where the missing portraits have vanished to. To where I will build my fortune in Ephia's Well. And when I'm there, not even my INSUFFERABLY SMUG BOSS will be able to tell me that I DON'T get to go to IL MODO! He'll rue the day he stole the seat I was promised by Argent on our expedition!

[caesaropapist]

Maribeh 10th, IY 7788. A time where the great Caliph is honoured.

I am no longer destitute. My influence has began to spread.
The performative nature of politics tires me. I was not cut out for showmanship.

But stands must be made. Notoriety must be raised.

There are people who I am beginning to feel partial towards. I am averse to the idea of casual or competitive friendship, but these people grow on me like cysts on my feet. Mae Stern has proven to be a reliable bouncing board for my theories and idle thoughts; Zoe has proven to be a constant companion. Nur & Priore are beginning to feel like natural additions to my coterie, for totally opposite reasons. Nur's kind naivete, and Priore's cynical ruthlessness are two sides of the same kind of my business.

There's so much I need to work on.

The Hound: The Caliph's? The Martyrs? I think it's related to the disruption of the Underworld. Hunting down the myths around [REDACTED] is difficult, but I think I'm beginning to understand what it is. The Afterlife? And living people have been there? Apparently, it existed so far back that the Collosi recall it. I want the power it contains. I will HAVE the power it contains, no matter what it takes.

The Election: I don't think I'm going to win. The Astronomers seem wishy-washy, and the Sisterhood is permanently inscrutable. Argent has too much support. Too much money. He will, inevitably, buy out the Banda Rossa and the hopeless Balladeers, leaving us 2-2 in an ideal world. Sephidra doesn't seem like she even has a chance at this point -- current projections are 15, 20 votes, to 45-some for Argent, likely ten or less for me in the timeline where I fail to hold the Accord ...

The Heliograph: Colmes never responded to my letter. I don't think he's going to bite, but I had been hoping to help the war-effort in some fashion.

The Latchkey: Where to begin? Sisterhood. Astronomers. Orentid?
    This is going to be hard. I can't piggyback off someone elses' work.

Harrowden, the Memoir: It's beyond my reach. For now.
I need to increase my fluency and acquire equipment to translate what I need. It's going to be difficult.

[caesaropapist]

I am being watched.

Someone or something has noticed that I have been snooping around. Was last night's messenger a warning, a hint, or an act of random chance? What was it trying to tell me? The Sisters seemed to understand it, but I do not. Who are you? What were you trying to tell me?

[caesaropapist]

Maribeh 19th, IY 7788. A time where the great Caliph is honoured.
I would rather die a martyr for a cause I don't care about than live a failure.
Colmes tried to intimidate me. Did it work? A little bit.

But I will not compromise my vision or my plans because of him.

Tried. Treason. Even under other circumstances, I'd describe it as "deeply frivolous". They've all done this before. I'm just the one who did it and won, this time. That said, this is all an annoying distraction to the things that actually matter to me. We've coordinated things.

The Sisterhood has acceded. The doorway to the Moon and the Shining Path will be opened. The mystery of Harrowden will be solved, and more than that, it will be solved by me. And then I will take the next step in the Shining Path, and open the way to Asaedru below with the use of the new allies I've made.

You will regret the day you betrayed me, Alriyh.
You will regret the day you betrayed me, Naelin.
You will regret the day you betrayed me, Mentor.

Perhaps I will see the Moths in my dreams tonight. Are Elves meant to dream? I don't think so. It's not natural. It feels like something is deeply wrong when my eyes shut and I start to see the things that aren't there coming two-by-two.

[caesaropapist]

I am witnessed.

Before the ice comes the mist, and beyond both come the ash. The most furious I have known. My skin burns like my eyes, but I am only halfway here.

The Eye watches me. When I close my eyes I'm still down there, in the Sunken City. I can still feel the difference, see by the witchlight. The world I emerged into is not the same one I left.

[caesaropapist]

Tabbah 4th, IY 7788. A time where the sun rages wanton and Pra'raj cackles amidst the Ash.

Can't remember writing that last entry. It's been a long time since I've had the mental clarity required to write down and document my thoughts, or discuss my ambitions in the world for long beyond the most superficial of wagon-circling. Things came together exactly according to my plans, to the point that I almost feel apathetic and indifferent to it. No great rival or cunning opposition has emerged to me; the people of this City do not grasp what I am doing, or what it is I want to do.

I took a long journey to the Ayyabas, the other day. We sat at the precipice of the Shame and I spoke the name of the Master of Life, who I thought had been the traitor who wronged them. It seems that I was wrong. I really hate being wrong. It made me want to destroy the whole thing out of spite, but...

Something strange happened. Mist started coming from the desert.
And then an ash-storm circled the three of us, like the eye of a storm...

Been working on something. I'm thinking about the words of the Prophet Mordecai, of that City. My hands keep moving on their own as I sketch, thinking of the names of the One-Three-Seven, and the Five-Four, and and the Four-Three. There is a repetition and a purpose to the numerics in the Geometry that I'm still trying to understand...

[caesaropapist]

[Undated]
It's not something I talk about very often. My past, what I used to do. An assistant and choreboy for the Brimstone Lodge, perpetually studying in the shadows of giants and men more powerful than I was back then, and perhaps still am today. It's infurating to remember all the decades of work I spent trying to understand and bargain, to design new pentagrams and star-alignments that would support my work, only for...

One day, it would all vanish in one singular instant. When the rings crumbled, so did the whole of my life's work in an instant. They no longer answered me when I called, and there was only an eerie and great silence all across the World. Not even the Silver City seemed to answer us, anymore. Nor does it now that I'm in the Ash Desert.

Out here, it's more dangerous to discuss my line of business. At first when I came here, I thought the true power behind the world was the Djinn. That if I learned to control them, that I could control the world as we know it. But I was wrong. The true power out here is something much stranger and much older, now that I've finally seen into the Old City, ...

And whatever we saw, under the ocean.

There are always the hooded figures, and there is always the Eye: wherever I go. But I do not think he is related to the One-and-Three? Or perhaps he is. It's all spirited but empty conjecture. Half-truths and sweet lies obscured by time and the maliciousness of the Ashfolk. They are enemies of the Truth, and therefore, they are all enemies of me.

[caesaropapist]

Tabbah 23rd, IY 7788. A time where the sun rages wanton and Pra'raj cackles amidst the Ash.

al-Almadel is dead;
and therefore, from his corpse,
a new Superego must be hatched.

The project continues.

[caesaropapist]

Illul 3rd, IY 7788. A time when the harvest is reaped.
I'm starting to see things that I don't think are real. Should I tell someone?
I can't. They already think I'm a Brooker, and half the Well wants to kill me.

Nadiri Y is right. I can't trust anyone with this right now.

[caesaropapist]