Reluctant Journal

[Random_White_Guy]

It is curious to me the nature of these creatures.
They make their deals, seal their pacts, propagate their influence, sow their chaos and destruction and more to secure whatever their hearts desire. It is no question why there has been so much subversion of order and fallen empires. It seems no matter what their origin and their affiliation they crave contest with one another, demand strife over the barest sleight, and stop at nothing to secure their power.

...But that is, it has been said, the nature of Humans. Ever more dangerous than the Djinn, the volatility, the impulsiveness, the ego. For all such said though, such insight. I do not know if it is survival instinct or merely their shrewd adaptability. But in the last 24 hours many of them have come so very close to recognizing the truth of things.

Balladeer Caddick howling at the Gates of Sand, "The Well's worse off than it was six months ago. We're eroded." Which, as situation would have it - the time of my arrival.

Lyrist Domergure, snarling of her top three foes not long after she shared such when inquired by the Legate Argent where she would begin with her plans to uproot and save Ephia - "The Brookers. The dying refugees outside our gates. The destiny awaiting us in Bet Nappahi." It is flattering to find way to top of a list, but at what point is it then a challenge - when the wheels cast in motion weeks in advance for matters to come to fruition. It begins to feel as if one had barely done anything.

So saying in response, Prelate Moretti - "Pointless cruelty is the worst of all." as though cruelty with purpose a grander exposition? Pointless cruelty holds in it a severe purpose. Study, experiment, gauging reaction and undertaking, testing of boundaries, of limitations. If he knew the cruelty bestowed upon his dear Fiordelise, I wonder if he would have proffered the 10,000 dinar required to raise me voiced. And yet she proceeded to offer me gratitude for the lesson, seeking to learn more, moving eagerly. Whyso? Because a few religious individuals, such as my friend Azim, began to shift their tune? How unfortunate that the zeal begins amidst the time I reveal to her the possibilities. A shame it is that now she endeavors a new path. How seemingly coincidental. How unplanned.

And yet in the wake of my rise to Voice free of charge, in the wake of the attack upon the Syballine Sisterhood, when Official Fabio de Avalore of the League of Gold stormed the Pyramid, he pointed directly at me - howling. "Yes. This was supposed to be an *easy win*, *Argent*. With all due respect, what the fuck are you doing?! Is it this elf? Is he whispering in your ears?"

My heart skipped a beat. Surrounded in the Pyramid by the zealots of Warad and Izdu, by the Paladin, by the Legion, by the men and women of Governance. A finger pointed directly at me. The most naked of accusation.

Long has it been since I felt so alive

And yet I am mired in disappointment. The accusation falling upon deaf ears. The next shiny object, the next loud Bellow, the next snort of derision drawing their attention away.

The entire ordeal leaving me so...fruitlessly adrift.

From the records, notes, and conspiratorial machinations - Apothar Azimi made it seem that Sister Selsi was some grandiose twister of time, space, and willpower. Instead she could not even train her sycophants to uphold the facade she and her predecessors so carefully spread among the unknowing populace.

All they had to do to best things - was to take the beating. The Dragon's reputation, his image, and more would have been utterly destroyed. A Sister of the Accord brutalized, beaten, burned, battered, forced to kneel before the voting machine and cast his whim. Baz'eel would not have let such stand, the Rose, even the Tower.

Instead though matters played out as they ever do.  Pride, ego, a short sighted victory rather than a lasting triumph. This first gambit against the Rose should have been a starting volley of a long, beautiful struggle. A challenge...

Instead they have crumble the first step off the vessel. The Dragon of Ephia beaten, by a nun, who is in fact a powerful Wizard of highest circle and capabilities. Not a charitable worker - but all the makings of an Arch Maji. That does not lend to the narrative so meticulously drafted by so many of the Sisters over the last decade.

It simply... sets it aflame for the sake of a petty victory.

I do begin to worry though. This creeping ennui, I have not felt it so badly since my time spent in my Uncle's drawing room. Without rival, without challenge, without new indulgence...

...what am I to do, sitting here with power and fortune and luxury?

Sending petty letters back and forth with Apothar Stern over her fuming of my corrupting of her various Nadiri? Offering darker portents than perhaps Zol Nur Apothar would care to hear of how to solve the problems he is presenting? Amplifying Apothar Azimi's basest instincts in hopes she may present new opportunities?

Certainly no way to spend a half a century, until these mortals dwindle...

Perhaps the Scald shall shake things up. Perhaps I should refocus my efforts on Greydon. Or perhaps cultivating a few more Nadiri of my own...

[Random_White_Guy]

Though it began with Alejandro's travel boxes...
The proliferation of djinn artifice moved so much beyond. I wrote previously how it was my desire to use them as possible safeguards, if I was forced to flee and leave fragments of my research behind. Soon enough though it became apparent that the woes of war, the distraction of politic, the efforts of so much...

...half of them were returned. By the dutiful travelers, by the earnest nadiri, by the eager boardworker seeking a bounty. It became abundantly clear the methods would require shifting - less an overwhelming flood of these artifice remain ever in my possession. As Apothar, as fully fledged member of the Astronomical Mage's Guild of Ephia's Well - The time came to teach.

Three individuals, in three weeks time, would be gleaned and tempted of the Djinn.

The first, she would take to tears at the sight.

The second, he would gaze with dumbfounded confusion.

The third, he would be visibly shaken by the horror wrought...

...But not so much that he would not conjure a second horror almost immediately given the chance to learn more.

And in such I am able to learn a great deal about the Human. Atrocities abound, but so long as there is something that draws its wonder, gives it pause to consider. This - this very sense, is how undoubtedly they felt likewise. These would be Princes and Ladies of their many courts. These dangerous, erratic, magnificently strange little creatures.

All it takes to throw away the warnings, all it takes to throw away the threats, all it takes to throw away the howling priests of Sin, the furious hangman's howling of a noose awaiting, the chastisement and fear of the masses.

Possibility. Simply the possibility. The possibility of something they had never considered. No mater how scant or bare. That they may learn something few have, if ever, in their time walking this desert. Be it for ill and power, as Oskruul endeavored is not quite the same sensation.

But to take that which is deemed fair? And slowly tempt it away, a siren's song of power... of wealth... of discovery. I have corrupted individuals before. But this - This is wholly different. The elven maids and servitors of my Uncle's manor still came from so much. These humans fleeing the terrors of the realms now gone. There is hunger there, something dark, simply waiting to be coaxed out in desperation.

To take the unexpected, and make of them a Brooker.

Drawing them from the light, slowly, surely. To me.

What a remarkable sensation. And a City full of them...

This, I dare say, shall be... fun?

When was the last time I had fun.

...I cannot recall.

[Random_White_Guy]

From time to time you find yourself genuinely surprised.
Since I set off on this new path, Seven Individuals have been coaxed away from the myths and dangers of Baz'eel, of the tales that to know the Djinn is to know misery and suffering. While it stands to reason seven is not so large a sum of consideration - it stands to greater reason:

Seven individuals walking Ephia's Well have actively partaken of the craft of brooking, and none of them have been uncovered or executed for their transgressions. It stands true to my arguments so long ago with Oskruul, that if we would be able to find a steady drip of the willing the possibilities robust. And though his works in Necromancy we never found purchase as I traded him my patronage in exchange for his aid in my other works, the principles sound.

At its core the idea is to avoid singular-cluster groupings. It was the problem he had come upon while we had attended our works in the Creep, while he used the laboratory I carved below under the auspices of my protection. He found gangs, outcasts, men and women who banded together and when he delivered them the opportunity of temptation some would accept, some would balk, and it would create a singular friction. In many such cases the stranger in the creep was eschewed in favor of a more steadfast ally.

Taking the experiment above ground it has served fair from our nascent days of his attempts at building cult effort. Seeking individuals who are distressed, woed, worried, suffering, and more are the staples of the craft. More importantly though are those who feel isolated, adrift, unfulfilled.

It is imperative though to have the discipline of craft to not proverbially cross-polinate. For if each individual believes they operate individual, with one key figure as a singular spoke, it lends to the consideration of a degree of safety. Any one individual can be compromised, which leads to the compromise of the spoke, but the others remain fluid and unknown as they continue their works.

In this it has allowed a widescale proliferation, but above all-

Those who have been swayed believe their works are so abominable, so hellacious, and above all else a matter for which the Fourth Legion will see them executed if they are discovered and rooted out. And so they keep it secret, keep it safe, keep it private, keep it close.

It leaves me to wonder if they are as imperceptive as the others of the Well. While many have taken to casting aspersions upon my name, baseless and with little evidence, I have yet to hear of even a singular of the others being so suspected.

They know that there are others out there - this much is known, I tell them such. That through me all matters are prismed to limit exposure. But to date I have yet to be reported of any inquiries or otherwise about the possibility of collusion. Small samplings, across all strata of society - absent of class, creed, gender, politic, affiliation. These pin-points, bright and shining upon the landscape like the stars in the sky amidst the others unaware.  A small, secretive society borne of a singular purpose: That my works proceed, piece by piece, bit by bit.

It lends to question how long do I allow such to ferment, before making larger effort to advance my workings? Seven is assuredly plenty, but by the same measure each pursues their own curious efforts and undertakings. It leaves me curious to see how they shall grow their paths rather than my intervention.

I suppose then the question will become -

If I have done all of this without Pact Mark to bind them to my will.
If I have done all of this without Exposure of any significant degree.
If I have done all of this without Legions of Servitor to do my bidding.

...Is there any need to alter my own path? It is proven effective and successful through seven individual and unique trial with seven individual and unique circumstances.

Two of my disciples cross each other in the street, and neither seems any the wiser. Does it matter if they know one another, if it is proceeding my works towards the desired end?

As long as headway is made in the experiment, I need do nothing to change of it. I should not endeavor to over-tune or interfere in what is already proven to work and be effective.

Though I suppose perhaps it is time to commence the next experiment.

...After all. If they are all so distracted with the Orc. If they are all so distracted with this petty politicking of the election of Asherias and Argent. If they are all so distracted with accusing me of being a Brooker.

...Whom, if any, will notice as I begin my works of Qa'im.