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BOOK ONE
by Mankar Camoran
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 reetings,
novitiate, and know first a reassurance: Mankar Camoran was once
like you, asleep, unwise, protonymic. We mortals leave the dreaming-sleeve
of birth the same, unmantled save for the symbiosis with our mothers,
thus to practice and thus to rapprochement, until finally we might
through new eyes leave our hearths without need or fear that she
remains behind. In this moment we destroy her forever and enter the
demesne of Lord Dagon. |
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 eader,
this book is your door to that demesne, and though you be a destroyer
you must still submit to locks. Lord Dagon would only have those
clever enough to pause; all else the Aurbis claims in their fool
running. Walk first. Heed. The impatience you feel is your first
slave to behead. |
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 nter as
Lord Dagon has written: come slow and bring four keys. Know that
then you are royalty, a new breed of destroyer, whose garden shall
flood with flowers known and unknown, as it was in the mythic dawn.
Thus shall you return your first primal wail and yet come out different.
It shall this time be neonymbiosis, master akin to Master, whose
Mother is miasma. |
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| very quarter
has known us, and none bore our passing except with trembling. Perhaps
you came to us through war, or study, or shadow, or the alignment
of certain snakes. Though each path matters in its kind, the prize
is always thus: welcome, novitiate, that you are here at all means
that you have the worthiness of kings. Seek thy pocket now, and look!
There is the first key, glinting with the light of a new dawn. |
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 ight follows
day, and so know that this primary insight shall fall alike unto
the turbulent evening sea where all faiths are tested. Again, a reassurance:
even the Usurper went under the Iliac before he rose up to claim
his fleet. Fear only for a second. Shaken belief is like water for
a purpose: in the garden of the Dawn we shall breathe whole realities. |
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| nter as
Lord Dagon has written: come slow and bring four keys. Our Order
is based on the principles of his mighty razor: Novitiate, Questing
Knight, Chaplain, and Master. Let the evil ones burn in its light
as if by the excess of our vision. Then shalt our Knowledge go aright.
However, recall that your sight is yet narrow, and while you have
the invitation, you have not the address. |
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 y own
summons came through a book Lord Dagon wrote himself in the deserts
of rust and wounds. Its name is the 'Mysterium Xarxes', Aldmeretada
aggregate, forefather to the wife of all enigma. Each word is razor-fed
and secret, thinner than cataclysms, tarnished like red-drink. That
I mention it at all is testament to your new rank, my child. Your
name is now cut into its weight. |
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 alace,
hut, or cave, you have left all the fog worlds of conception behind.
Nu-mantia! Liberty! Rejoice in the promise of paradise!
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| ndlessly it
shall form and reform around you, deeds as entities, all-systems
only an hour before they bloom to zero sums, flowering like vestments,
divine raiment worn to dance at Lord Dagon's golden feet. In his
first arm, a storm, his second the rush of plagued rain, the third
all the tinder of Anu, and the fourth the very eyes of Padhome. Feel
uplifted in thine heart that you have this first key, for it shall
strike high and low into the wormrot of false heavens. |
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oaring I
wandered until I grew hoarse with the gospel. I had read the mysteries
of Lord Dagon and feeling anew went mad with the overflow. My words
found no purchase until I became hidden. These were not words for
the common of Tamriel, whose clergy long ago feigned the very existence
of the Dawn. Learn from my mistake; know that humility was Mankar
Camoran's original wisdom. Come slow, and bring four keys.
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 ffering myself
to that daybreak allowed the girdle of grace to contain me. When
my voice returned, it spoke with another tongue. After three nights
I could speak fire.
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| ed-drink,
razor-fed, I had glimpsed the path unto the garden, and knew that
to inform others of its harbor I had to first drown myself in search's
sea. Know ye that I have found my fleet, and that you are the flagship
of my hope. Greetings, novitiate, Mankar Camoran was once you, asleep,
unwise, protonymic, but Am No More. Now I sit and wait to feast with
thee on all the worlds of this cosmos. Nu-mantia! Liberty! |
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