They Told Me...

“If you cannot bring good news, then bring none at all.”

You see, I was the Messenger. I was the one to tell the next session of the mess they were about to be involved with. They didn't want to listen, and they suffered for it.

Before I go, I would like to issue a challenge.

If you can identify the names of those who filled all the roles in the story I have told you, then I'm sure that he will reward you when he finds this. Leave your answer as a comment here. I believe that I've given you sufficient clues, and they are names that you should be familiar with.

I'll leave you with one last hint:

"How is it with you, that you do bend your eye on vacancy,
and with the incorporeal air hold discourse?" 

Farewell. 

Then Bring None At All pt. 7

The King, the Estuary, and the Foil, all brothers, worked together to ward Him off for as long as they could, but He was determined to have them all. He was furious at having lost souls that He had already claimed, and His anger is not something to be taken lightly. The Tactician was the one to figure out how to defeat Him and save them all; in order to take away His power, they had to take away their belief in Him. The only way to truly do that was to forget that He existed at all.

There are many ways to make oneself forget a thing, but none of them are pleasant. I will not go into detail here on the various ways that they forgot Him, but I will tell you that one of their number was not able to do so. It seems fated that the one who plays this part in the cycle is never allowed to forget, because they have to see that the message is delivered to the King of the next cycle.

I'm afraid I don't have time to tell any more of this story. It's nearly time for me to wake up. I'm afraid I'll be unable to contact you again after this; and really I've only left this message for him, to elaborate on what he will be told in the near future. Perhaps he'll be able to tell you more one day.

Then Bring None At All pt.6

They took Tropos all the way to the bottom, to Chaos, and as they approached Chaos transformed itself to accommodate their presence. Things that had never before been given a form or shape were suddenly forced into a physical shell. The demons' unfamiliarity with a corporeal form saved them from much harm, and they were able to progress through Chaos with little difficulty, until they came to a disturbing sight.

It was a Tree that seemed to be made from the bodies of three enormous women, their faces contorted in fury. Their bodies were twisted together horribly to form the trunk, and their arms extended up and split into the tree's branches; their feet grew down into the earth. The roots could be seen growing up and up into Tropos and, supposedly, into Pragma. Despite how horrific this creature, this abomination, was, the true horror lay in what hung from its branches. Strung up from every branch were the shades of every soul He had ever taken, from the time that He was given shape by our thoughts; from infants to the elderly. The shades wept tears of blood in their suffering, and the Tree seemed to thrive on it; blood dripped from the tips of the branches, ran down the trunk, coated the roots. The furious faces of the three women drank it as it ran down into their mouths.

They saw the King's shade in that Tree, and they approached with the intention of cutting him down from there and rescuing him. As soon as they were close enough, all of the Tree's smaller branches, the ones too small to support a body, lashed out at them as though they were claws. The group leapt back into safety. The Champion approached, his sword in hand, and tried to fight off the branches, but to no avail; he was badly wounded and forced to retreat without managing to inflict any damage at all.

The Tactician proposed that the Huntress shoot at the trunk of the Tree with her arrows, perhaps aim for the faces of the women who formed it; the Huntress knew, however, that the branches would merely deflect her arrows before they hit. But the Huntress was brave, and approached the tree regardless. She could see how the King was suffering, and she would not stand for it. As she approached, the branches readied themselves to attack, but suddenly one of the women who were the Tree told the other two to hold, and let the Huntress approach. She told her that she could relate to the vengeance in the Huntress' heart, and she released the King and the Estuary from their grasp.

The danger for the group grew as they fled back to Tropos, as many of the demons were becoming used to their physical forms and tried to attack. The Champion and the Huntress led the group, their weapons in hand; the Tactician and the Light-Bearer brought up the rear while the Native and the Planter helped the badly injured King and Estuary along in the middle. Working as a team, they made it back to their world with relatively little damage taken.

With their return to Pragma, the King and the Estuary's souls returned to their bodies, and they were able to return home. None of the group would be fooled by Him again, after what they had alreadyy gone through, but He will never give up, so long as He has power.

Then Bring None At All pt. 5

The King was a strong and righteous man, and he retained those traits even when he soul was lost to him; he sought revenge for his defeat, and he wanted nothing more than to protect his friends and family. He tried to approach them, to lead them on the right path (for those whose souls dwell in the darkness of Chaos can see more than an average mortal), but they had seen how the Estuary fell to Him and beguiled the King into his current state, and they would not trust him. He went into hiding, then.

He knew it would be impossible to gain their trust and to be straightforward with them, so he composed a message, a riddle, really, and sent it to the Tactician. The Tactician could not resist the challenge of a well-made puzzle, and immediately set to solving it. Each solution she discovered led her to another puzzle, and brought her closer and closer to the truth. She realized, over time, what was happening and put her trust in the mysterious benefactor who was helping them. The rest of the members of the session soon joined the Tactician in her search for truth, and they were led to a place where the walls between the different planes of existence are thin. It was through such a rift that He was able to enter our world in the beginning.

There is a bridge between our realm of matter and His realm of thought. They called this bridge Tropos, because it was their path into that world of thought and darkness, but it was far more than just a physical trail; it was a way of doing things, a method of getting there. There aren't words that can aptly describe how Tropos works, or how it is constructed, but I will do my best to explain it to you.

It is a spiral, much like a twister, with one wide and and one very small end. Our realm, which can be called Pragma (because it is a realm made of matter), is at the wide end of the spiral. It is a long trip through this path to reach the other end of the spiral and enter Chaos; but should one manage to enter His realm and return with their life, it is a much shorter trip back to our world. The Tropos spiral works much like a telescope, in that aspect. From the broad end, Chaos seems very far away, but from the narrow end, our world seems quite close.

Then Bring None At All pt. 4

There have been those, in the past, who tried to fight against Him. I could tell you many stories; stories of success, or of failure. But I think the most relevant story I could tell you would be the first time a group banded together to fight Him, and other creatures like them. You probably know their names, but I think I'll let you figure them out on your own.

The first session to stand up to Him set a precedent. It is unknown whether it was fate that gave them their roles, which have been passed down through each subsequent session. Perhaps He knows; He has always been able to see the thread of fate.

It all began with the Estuary; he was the source of the session's infection. It started in his dreams, as tends to be the way things go. Soon he would see Him in the reflections on the water. He told the rest of his session about it, in time, fearing that he was losing his mind. The next to be infected was the King, the one fated to lead the session. The further through the session it spread, the more powerful He became, and the faster the infection spread. The next to fall to His wiles were the Reveler, the Artisan, and the Native. Those three were reluctant to get involved, though they didn't realize just how involved they already were. They lost the Estuary to His tricks, and He used him to take his brother, the King. When the King was lost, there was no longer doubt in anyone's mind that He was real, and the rest of the session were forced to take action. This brought in the Concubine, the Light-Bearer, the Champion, the Huntress, the Tactician, the Planter, the Foil, the Consort and, finally, the Messenger. All the fated roles were filled.

Then Bring None At All pt. 3

The other exception are those who, even soulless, are left with a driving force. Their last motivation lingers, even when their soul has been pulled from their body. For many, that final motivation is revenge, and that is all it takes. They have a purpose, a reason to go on living.

Soulless, they have nothing that He wants, so He ignores them. He can't see a mortal creature as a threat. Of course, there is no way to kill Him, but His influence on others' minds can be cut off. The closest to true revenge that one can come is to stop Him from claiming any more souls.

I seem to be rambling. I apologize; there's a lot to say, and not much time for me to say it.

Then Bring None At All pt. 2

He appears in cycles; sessions, if you prefer. It starts with an individual, and they inadvertently infect those closest to them with His presence. It's no fault of theirs, that is simply how He works. As the infection spreads, He moves in and begins to take victims. It's not their lives He wants, as most seem to think. He comes from a realm where there is no life, no death, no body, form, or matter to kill or destroy. What He wants is their existence, their soul.

The body and mind live on, but without their soul most of them die soon, anyway. What is left behind is nothing but a shell, and without a soul there is no drive to eat, drink, seek shelter from the heat or cold. If the dehydration doesn't do them in first, then starvation or exposure will claim them before long. There are exceptions, though. Some of them, the husks I mean, will be taken by Him to be used as tools. Through them, He has all of their knowledge, their memories. He uses them to lure in the people they were close to; He defiles their memory, their life, by using them to destroy the things most important to them. He's a sick, amoral, dirty creature. A demon of the worst variety.