Property:Memora text
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Holds the text of Memora objects.
S
And now to a bookkeeping matter. Let it be noted that I, Executor Rubric, address this personally per procedural decree for it involves an official rescission of claims in the Deep Gap vein adjacent Shambler territory. Let it be noted Engineer Garuth misused a quarter stone of sulfur, resulting in fire damage to aforementioned Shambler acreage. Such gross heedlessness and waste of resources must not go unaddressed. Let it be noted that Garuth's claim to the Deep Gap vein is hereby halved for a period of no less than six months, then quartered for an additional three or until Garuth demonstrates an unwavering prudence befitting an Expedition engineer. +
This business about the murdered Expedition engineer... It offends me those vainglorious Dwarves would even consider us capable of such a crime. Five arrows plucked from the corpse? More than one is a waste! Any Elven archer would be ashamed of such sloppy aim. Obviously an Outcast is to blame! +
While reading ancient writings in the ruins of the Seers' library, I found a curious passage… one that spoke of Cabirus as a person, a man of flesh and bone. He once lived in the Abyss, and judging by the records, he was as… ‘demanding…' as he is now.<br>Whatever his aims, they were laid low… It seems, by their accounts, the Seers witnessed his death, but by whose hands, they do not know - only that they did not mourn his passing and saw him an equal threat to the slumbering terrors in The Abyss. +
The Hivemind, using The Saurian mediators as vessels, showed us the cycle of the Abyss… how death gave birth to new life, both to The Hivemind and the vegetation spanning the halls… from death, came growth. The great lava and heat that welled up within the mountain, the slumbering of Typhon, was part of this cycle, providing warmth and currents upon which the spores could travel. It was a cycle of rebirth. It was… balance, equilibrium. +
It is not like me to drink to excess, particularly at the Feast of Mogwawg. And yet I can think of no other explanation for tonight's peculiar feast. The first fourteen courses were typically exquisite. Mogwawg's entrails had just the right amount of saltpeter. My compliments to Chef Galdwain! Yet it was that fungal dish, the “Horn of Plenty,” that had me stay my stein. I could've sworn the Horn was...moving. I suppose I must have a word with the brewer about the stout of his vintage. Or at least cut me off at two barrels on raucous eves. +
Rubric's arrogance, mule stubborn like all dwarves… came to us and demanded that, I, Xefreyani, surrender the Abyssal Keys of the elves, claiming that The Expedition was the true inheritors of the Abyss. I reminded Executor of the pilgrimage of Pir-Tama at Cabirus's hand, the sealing of the portal from those who sought to enslave us, and reminded the Executor that the key was divided because it symbolized equal claim… but he would have none of it, he all but spat on the floor of the Circle of Portals and said that the Abyss belonged to those who could tame it, not worship it. +
Dead or alive, Cabirus has drawn suspicion from The Hivemind. As a spirit he wanders The Lower Dark, always scheming. When flesh and bone, he did much the same. The Hivemind would rather not convey to its mediators the exact cause of Cabirus's death, long ago, except to say rumors persist of murder by poison or strange magicks. Let these unrefuted tales inform all suspicions. +
T
Over time, The Sun Key became a symbol, not of unity, but of division. The dwarves wished it to open the depths to add fuel to their furnaces… the elves wished it so they could ensure the borders of the Abyss remained closed to outsiders… and The Hivemind feared both factions. This fear grew that in time, the others would seek to seize their part of the key. +
It's a common jest among the Disenthralled that investigating the Undead is the quickest way to joining them. The ancient texts claim the reanimated deceased are a consequence of the unique arcane nature of our Abyssal environment. I disagree. The Abyss itself harbors an ill will. The walking dead are extensions of Typhon, his malice made flesh and bone. Or bone...just bone. +
The engineers guided me to the lower chambers today, so that I might observe the channels lava had carved in the rock. The heat would fuel the forges, my engineers said, and as long as the channels were kept and the lava flow steady and undisturbed, then the Great Work could continue. If the heat were to die in the Abyss, the Great Work would be ended as well… and The Expedition would be no more.<br>Cabirus speaks of it as a hated thing, to be quenched and doused, but the engineers say that is careless talk – without such heat, there would be no life in the Abyss, and our hardships would be many. +
Adversity is an ally. Every challenge is an opportunity. These are the teachings of Pir-Tama, tenets of our society, and they have served us well. And so it is with sorrow I must punish Praxor, who sowed conflict where there was none. He sought challenge as a means of enlightenment. Instead he enraged our Expedition allies when we must stand as one. +
Before The Expedition, before Cabirus's failed utopia...before even the Rotworms rooted through The Lower Dark, the first spore took root. It propagated and flourished into the garden of The Hivemind. Societies great and small came and went, scourged by the flames, yet The Hivemind remained, regarding all. It sowed fields of memories, ignored until The Saurians learned to meditate and speak. +
I, Khosnak, was there when The Sun Key was given to the people of the Abyss. The key was a symbol of hope, a symbol that the outside world would once again be open to us… all of us. We were there when it was given, and were there when the Key was divided, a piece given to the elves, the dwarves, and The Hivemind, with the hope that together, all of the Abyss would be open to them provided they worked together. +
It is strange that The Sun Key transformed from a symbol of hope to one of distrust. The Sun Key, split amongst the factions, might as well have become three blades of greed, paranoia, and fear… and as The Saurian and Hivemind watched, we say that these emotions were what Cabirus sought to exploit, claiming that all such keys were safe with him and him alone, and he cared not who he ruined to make it so. +
The dead have driven us from the lower levels, and still they press the attack. My warriors… exhausted. So many have fallen… the forges are lost, and we still fight to hold the upper halls. Where is the aid Cabirus promised? Will he leave us to die… to be sacrificed?<br>We are alone. The elves are lost, scattered. The expedition's only hope is to retreat to the Circle of Portals… The Saurians will not help us in their warded city. We must retreat, break the portals, and try to gather our forces elsewhere. +
No warlord, no tactician would survive for long who underestimated The Hivemind. No holdfast might withstand the erosive force of a timeless society. The Hivemind's arsenal is vast, encompassing the whole of the underworld. Arrows and blades are fleeting, serving only for a blink. The garden of The Hivemind casts a long shadow of death. It can kill today with an avalanche or simply await the inevitability of the tectonic shift. +
We Disenthralled and the Goblinfolk of the last age share a kindred history. Cabirus's own memoirs confirm this. His text claims, “The Goblins originated from forbidden arcane experiments performed on prisoners and other victims by demented, power-seeking mages.” Goblin society thrived in the Abyss until Typhon last stirred. We share a beginning. Let us not share their end. +
The creature that assails the gardens of The Hivemind, Typhon, wields flame and lava as its weapons, cutting scythes through The Hivemind, burning away countless memories. Vestiges of us remain in the dark corners, beyond the Abyss… The Saurians we coexist with shall be safe beyond their wards and walls of Marcaul… but even that may be a fragile hope. The Hivemind thought they would outlast even nature's wrath, until the fires of nature one day rose to claim them. +
U
Cabirus came before me, seeking an audience with “Executor Rubric” – he might as well have spat the title, as if acknowledging it was an offense to his own. I believe the masked one knew he had gone too far in his demands – yet I gave him an audience. No sooner had it begun, before he was railing at us as if we were children, unable to see ‘his plans' for what they were… and when I told him his plans for ‘us' seemed to avail The Expedition not at all, he grew cold and said that if we did not listen, then we deserved our fates. +
W
The Stygian Abyss is a liminal region…<br><br>An in-between space, where the barriers to other dimensions fade.<br><br>A gateway elsewhere, connecting all worlds to The Underworld.<br><br>If fortunate events occur here, they may ripple throughout reality.<br><br>If the opposite happens? It can topple creation... +