Kwoalewei Mathai the Destroyer of the Chasm, Eye of the Scarab

Role

Chapter 10

You see a vibrant glowing white page adorned with a large black triangle,
within which floats an obscure depiction of a deformed robed figure devoid of
all light. It moves with magical animation, shadowy orb-like eyes glare at
you from beneath this creature's heavy hood. You feel its frosty breath
rising to meet your face. You sense it slowly drawing you in, as if grasping
out toward you from within the page to absorb your life force. Your
surroundings begin to blur, darkness creeping in from the edges of our
vision.

It suddenly occurs to you that it may be wise to close this journal quickly,
less you lose a part of yourself to this dark magic.
_____________________________________________________________________________

My life's work lay there before me, within reach, and yet time takes a
relentless toll upon my mortal bones.

They say the Plane itself is where the past combines with all possible
futures. I understand now. I understand the keys. I know what it is we seek.
Though the Coven remains obscure, I do believe I know what this all shall
mean in the end.

We shall first destroy the Chasm, ensuring the Gateway shall stand for
eternity. As is the way of the "Wandering Man", clarity of vision and the
Will aligned, destruction shall manifest creation. And so it shall come to
be...

Never has there been an undertaking of greater importance than what shall
transpire within the Plane. I now only hope that I might find success before
my final breath. In doing so, transcendence shall be within my grasp. All
else matters not.

The Shadows beckon me as one of them. The essences of the ancient Gods stir
something deep and powerful.

I must act in haste.

Immortal Comments

Role

Chapter 1

A crisp white page sits atop a small stack of papers, bound carefully
together with what appears to be strands of spider silk. The text is
beautifully written in flowing black ink, a few elaborate spider-like symbols
are drawn in the margins.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Should you be reading this, I can only assume the experiment was a success.
If my predictions were correct, you are now experiencing the worst headache
of your life, likely agitated and disorientated, vomiting and suffering
severe cramping. Do not worry over these temporary ailments, as they shall
soon pass and are a pittance for what you have gained (and lost), I can
assure you. Drink the tonic I have left on the table beside you--it will help
ease the side-effects.

Your name is Kwoalewei Mathai. You are the purest of drow to have ever
wandered the Underdark, in a past life a devote servant of Lloth (hencethe
brand of the spider you will notice on your hand). Know that you are gifted
in all matters of scientific and arcane studies, the sharpest of minds and a
master of mental and physical manipulations. Use your gift with extreme care.
Nurture it and it will guide you. Never underestimate yourself.

What you are now experiencing is the culmination of your own lifes
research--a reprogramming of your mind, as it were, enabling you to see things
as purely as they can be perceived by mortal mind. Your past life was a life
of pain and suffering, it carried with it a haze of weakness and impurities
that settled over your mind and body, holding you down. The details of which
are best forgotten entirely, I can assure you. This experiment, if
successful, has given you the gift of sight in a world of the blind. In time
you shall discern exactly what I mean. For now this will all be confusing, if
not infuriating. Be patient, as the "adjustments" I have made to our mind
will blossom with time. Just as all things in life take time to grow to
fruition.

The following pages in this journal have been designed to guide the remaking
of your self. Study them in time, as each shall reveal an essence of the
Truth with the sole purpose of completing your transformation, of setting
your self free. For now, you must simply know this: you are henceforth beyond
good and evil. You are henceforth beyond politics and allegiances. You are
henceforth unrestrained in your ambitions. Your will shall manifest over the
minds and bodies of all who attempt to limit you.

Embrace the dark from where you came, Kwoalewei. Seek out the Father of Devils
and focus your mind on the essence of the Truth. This world is now yours anew.
Go forth and shape it with your will.

Yours truly, forever and nevermore,

Kwoalewei Mathai, Forgotten and Reborn.

Role

Chapter 2

The second page in this journal has been crumpled, appearing wrinkled and
worn, as if it had once been tossed away as rubbish before being reclaimed.
It begins with a skillfully drawn anatomical sketch of a dissected elf
corpse, with various parts of the brain, bones, and guts labeled in
meticulous detail. Beneath the drawing you note several large smudges of ink
and scrawling text...

___________________________________________________________________________

The brain and body are connected in very complex yet predictable ways. A
spark of electricity through the body, the muscles respond as such. Just as
when one jolts the brain, mind and body consequently react. Understanding
these connections in their deepest sense-- and learning how they can be
manipulated, how their limitations can be overcome-- this will help you grasp
the Truth.

If my predictions were correct, when you awakened from our "experiment", you
noticed a strange feeling (once the headache faded away)... perhaps
something subtle, as though more than your memories are missing. It may feel
as a lightness of sorts, a sense of clarity previously unknown, as if a haze
has been lifted from your mind. In time this will hold great meaning. Be
patient as you regain your bearings and respond to the adjustment.

For now consider this, and think deeply upon it before you read further
through the pages that follow:

What is the Lich, in terms of life and death? How does it become so? Neither
living nor dead, it is an embodiment of transcendence-- the overcoming of the
very concepts of life and death. What does one become whence the notions of
life or death suddenly have no meaning at all, when one has absolved their
bounds and risen beyond such limitations? To begin to understand this you
must witness the Lich firsthand (and if somehow possible, observe the rare
event of one becoming).

Only the Father, Scarabaeus himself, can describe that feeling with any truth
from experience, truly understanding what it means to cast away the confines
of enslavement. We lack words to describe properly this utterly pure
manifestation of the will. Think deeply upon this nature of transcendence.
Why does it strike you as familiar? What is the symbolism?

There will be many who would claim to perceive the Truth. Be cautious, for
those bound by the dogma of politics, hierarchy, and civil law are no less
than blind. The world is filled with slaves in many forms. Beware all who
claim to know what is right. There are many false prophets. There are no
worthy guides outside the Father himself. The Truth can only be found within,
ultimately, and it will not be found by following any paths paved by others.
You will find your own way. Any who would claim otherwise are your enemy.
Treat them as such. Expect them to be threatened by what you pursue.

Role

Chapter 3

The page before you appears dark at first glance, with a white box of red
text in the center. Upon closer look, you see the outward edges of the page
are written on hundreds, perhaps thousands of times, a repeated phrase of
charcoal: "Embrace the Dark".

The inner white square holds what appears to be a simple poem written in
blood:
-------------------------------------------------

O drow, do not despair,

Lift your self to overcome!
That which does the deepest darkness declare?
"I was asleep--
From a dream I woke and now see clear:
The world is deep,
Deeper than days light had been aware.
So deep is each pain and woe--
Yet Truth is deeper than all pain and fear.
As woe implores: Will it so!
As all Truth strives for eternity--
Wants deep, wants deep eternity,

Embrace the dark,
For it is near."

-------------------------------------------------

Role

Chapter 4

Atop this page is a detailed sketch of an eyeball and connective nervous
tissues. Meticulous notes align the margins of the page, labeling the
anatomy and describing in detail their functions and relationship. One
passage near the bottom of the page stands out:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many eyes are clouded by fear, weakness, compulsive desires, and the
manipulation of great deceptions. They stumble about the world blindly,
enslaved to forces forever abstracted, oblivious to the Truth bared witness
by those few beholden to clearer perception. And what might one do to allow
the blind to see? To "open their eyes" would simply expose that
dysfunctioning eye to Truths it cannot perceive. Attempt philosophizing with
an elf and one will quickly realize their inferiority, as one cannot see
clearly when ones mind is broken entirely--

Challenge any of them. Find one of the Fortress who is a true manifestation
of their image of the so-called "Good"it dissipates as a dream and vapor,
for it does not exist. They hunt the drow, and yet if somehow they were
successful in destroying all they decry as evil, they would merely devour
themselves, always finding one more evil than the next, denying the pain and
suffering and hypocrisy they perpetuate in the process. The culmination of
this paradox, if left turned against themselves, the strongest amongst them
would finally stand alone in the end, perhaps only then to realize the Truth
in that momentall along that darkness had been within him, all along he had
been a slave to something impossible and oppressive. And then what? That lone
victorious paladin, so intent on righteousness, left standing alone
amongst all the fallen (all who were less "good", less strong) would then be faced
with the final logic of such conclusions. Does he choose suicide or
revelation? Either way he has lost.

Thus elven eyes are best functioning when removed entirely, and one may as
well sever their heads altogether in the process. Perhaps there are rare
cases where one's eyes are clouded in a fog, when one indeed bares the
capacity to see clearly with some effort and doctoring of the mind and body.
Those few with such potential should be sought out and shepherded through the
haze, for they may become something truly great. Yet they are so rare, and
the rest are a disease to be eradicated.

In doing so, anticipate a lonely journey. One must be prepared to thrive in
the solitude of the great Truth.

Role

Chapter 5

This strange tome continues, mismatched pages upon pages of philosophical
ramblings on the failures of morality and the nature of death. At times the
writings become incoherent or illegible, interwoven with anatomical sketches,
ingredients for mysterious elixirs, cryptic maps. The final page of the first
section is black neatly written in white text, adorned with the unmistakable
image of a Lich.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This shall be my final entry before our great experiment commences.
Henceforth, I urge you to continue documenting this journey, for one day this
tome shall be exalted beside none other than the Sacraa, rising above all
else written in the image of Truth. Those seeking to ascend beyond all
constraints of body and mind will come from distant lands to worship in this
vision.

Know that the lone dream-like memory that haunts your mind is real and I've
left that as a reminder. Understand this Kwoalewei: you were once a truly
gifted student of necromancy. Yet you were betrayed by the servants of Lloth.
You climbed too high, too quickly. Your attempt at Becoming a Lich produced
merely a toxic elixir that left you weakened, increasingly blind, and nearly
dead. Remember that pain, and how you have overcome it. Remember they will
try to stop you--yet you cannot be stopped.

I found a way that had not been discovered, yes. We must always find the way
that others overlook-- and there is always such a way! What sets us apart is
a simple idea. That one can be in a perpetual state of rebirth, eternally
overcoming all constraints of the past. In this way, we pursue a different
path toward the same end vision of the Lich, unbounded by the limitations of
the common man. So begins your second chance, your second Becoming.

In time you will become something like a Lich. Perhaps something even
greater-- I cannot predict. Purer even than any necromancer, it shall not be
through the manipulation of death or in the image of the undead, but rather
through the profundity of life itself, through the Truth of your philosophy
and the dissolution of the entirety of all constraints of your Will. All else
is meaningless.

You will discover you have certain gifts that set you apart, such as the
poisons that would taint the body and soul of common men you can simply purge
at will. Magnify that power, Kwoalewei. When others grow old and weak, you
must grow fresh and strong. As the world decays, you must grow forth and
flourish.

And so it is, with a lone wand crafted from the rib of a fallen elven
paladin, cured in the depths of the Inferno since time immemorial and tipped
with the tooth of the ancient Orc king, I whisper the forgotten words of the
Ancients...

So I will it. And so it shall be.

Role

Chapter 6

The second section of this tome appears to have been bound together at a
later time than the proceeding pages-- the latter being crisp white,
seemingly expensive sheets of parchments, the top of each stamped with a
small emblem of the Scarab Beetle.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It would appear that my experiment was successful, though what that means
exactly I have yet fully understand. Upon awaking, my memories have strangely
lingered-- yet to probe into them, they are like memories in a dream, without
context or substance and dissipating instantly into nothingness. The feeling
is one of confusion...and yet strangely also of liberation. My mind grows stronger
with each day. Yet my body feels frail, still far too frail.

To lose ones memory, ones identity in any common sense, I must say is a
disorienting sensation. Yet it seems that enough remains of me to rise from
this empty husk, presumably just as my old self has intended. I feel as
though an undeniable essence of that old self persists and slowly re-grows
into form, perhaps stronger even than before. And yet something is missing,
as if some nutriment, some physical or arcane essence is lacking. At times it
is a feeling simply of solitude. At times emptiness.

Nonetheless, my studies have progressed rapidly and I have overpowered
several subjects, fallen victims for my research. Though much research on
these connections and constraints of the mind and body remains to be
undertaken, I would believe I have found the signs of a certain path to
Becoming something truly great. The Father himself, Scarabaeus, has seen
enough promise within me to confirm my speculations. Just as I, in my past
life, had foretold. And for now this drives me, to be the Eyes of the Truth,
the shadows watching for the proper time to strike. All the while knowing
this is only my new beginning. Yes, only the beginning...

I have now simply one undeniable vision etched into my mind, that I must
pursue-- at any cost--this complete and utter transformation, from this empty
husk of flesh. I shall become the embodiment of my Will unbounded, a
manifestation of that one pure vision of The Truth. For now I am as the
caterpillar preparing his cocoon.

And so it would seem I blaze a path no others have found. That my Becoming
would begin anew, that each day would mean I grow healthier and stronger by
strength of Will alone. That each day would be marked by no single regret,
and that in time all frailty and weakness shall be cast away. In the end,
confirmed only by my Eternal Wish that it would be no other way, that each
moment would recur exactly as it were forever because I chose is to be so. As
in the mind of the Gods, just as the artist forms it so...

And so it is that I Will it. And thus so it shall be.

Role

Chapter 7

A meticulously detailed multi-colored emblem of a scarab beetle glows atop
this crisp white page. The hastily scrawled text below is smudged in many
places, as if the ink were not left to dry properly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Eye of the Scarab, I stand witness to these changing days. The Temple
grows. The new era progresses. The undeniable Truth thrives, relentless in
its expression. The Flame burns, the Voice speaks. Fathers Will manifest, we
shape the world in the purest image of the Self, purging all remnants of the
enslaving diseases of the commoners minds, destroying the oppressions of
their morality.

Slowly, the children emerge. Many of them, still caught in a dream, their
eyes now open wide as they awaken, casting away the illusions of enslavement
and denying the oppressions of morality. And so it is that our Temple grows,
slowly and with definitive purpose.

And I watch. And I wait for the proper time, for the next stage of my
metamorphosis to unfold. My meditations grow deeper as I slow my mind and
heart ever closer to the verge of utter stillness, so close to death itself
as if to embrace it fully. And in these stillest of moments I have discovered
a truly immaculate clarity. I have grasped the very essence of life, health
and self-control.

I have been lost in the maze of the Truth. I have wandered endlessly. I have
mined the depths of the soul for the Truth. I have destroyed my Self to
become the Truth reborn. I have waded ravenously through the archives of
knowledge in the most distant corners of the land in search of visions
unknown. Always the end of one path, another begins.

Only now have I found this truly remarkable inspiration, within the pinnacle
of Trothons Tower itself, as if a sign had been laid out before me all
along! Trothon himself had found the way. How, I am uncertain. Perhaps he
failed in the end. Regardless, it would appear my Becoming is conceivable and
in time it must be so. I shall seek guidance from the Father Himself.
As we will it, so it shall be.

Role

Chapter 8

Following the previous entries, dozens of pages seem to have been
intentionally left blank, now fading yellow and cracking with time.
A few soiled fingerprints, smudges of blood, stains of ash, various unknown
blemishes are all scattered randomly throughout this section, seemingly
passed over for reasons unknown.

One page has been mostly torn away, leaving behind a roughly torn edge. A
drop of red wax rests near the bottom, on closer inspection revealing a tiny
stamped seal of a scarab. Your touch causes an instant magical reaction, as
hidden text begins to glow on this page, slowly spilling over to all
preceding pages in the journal...

Both sides of every page now crawl with life-like movement, a dizzying array
of magical scripture and diagrams glowing, the interwoven complexities of
which are difficult to truly comprehend. Branching diagrams flow from page to
page, detailed maps, complex charts outline magical ingredients, obscure
spells in some foreign cypher, numerous layered caricatures of brains and
extensive diagrams of the neurological system twist and spiral from one page
to the next, flickering like flames and thrashing with life-like movement.
Layered drawings flow into charts, runes blurring between familiar and
foreign words, poetry, art, and science merged as one, covering every
possible space of every page.

What remains of this torn page, softly glowing text now reads as follows...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some would believe that perfection, true mastery of the Self, is a state to
be achieved. Some would mistakenly believe they have achieved it. Even my
guildmaster claims this of me-- though he is an elf, which would explain a
great deal of his inferior perceptions. No longer useful, the time has come
to slaughter him.

Perfection of the Self is a process ever unfolding, of overcoming-- of Becoming--
a never-ending transformation. Each moment to become more than the last. And
in proving this Truth, I've become stronger and mentally sharper than all
elves and drow before me. And still I advance.

Perhaps a test, Father Scarabaeus Himself would seem to deny the very
prospects for my transformation, suggesting that, beyond the necromancers and
perhaps the rarest of dark paladins, only slaves in the end would achieve the
transcendence I've envisioned. Yet I continually realize this simple Truth
overflowing from within. Such a thing cannot be constrained by past
precedents.

As the vines of the jungle thrive relentless, like the flames of wild fire, my
life is the Pure essence of health and endless progression. Should it become
necessary... I would deny even Him.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Role

Chapter 9

This pitch black page is bound with spider silk, absorbing all nearby light.
The writing upon it glows strangely white, as if drawn with focused light
itself. Several brief aphorisms are drawn at strange angles on either side of the page.
***************************************************************************************

The Coven is more powerful than I had even imagined. All the rumors of the
Shadow Planes existence, I have confirmed they are true. And it is a
glorious place indeed, devoid of all light, even absorbing of such things.
Swarms of nightgaunts and shadow dragons circle the sky, many lurking things
beyond ordinary vision, and it strangely feels as home. I do believe the
Plane exists as the Shadow of the Truth itself. Its mysteries vast, and
yet I am most certain somewhere there, my knowledge, my power--it shall
become complete. My research shall continue as often as I can gain access. It
seems to take much energy to do so. And should the Coven continue to accept
me as their Gatekeeper of sorts, I shall see to it they obtain everything
they desire there, perhaps even more.

***************************************************************************************

And so another has fallen to their deathly game of chance. The necromancers
attempt at Becoming, it would seem, is deadly more often than not. It is a
shame, as I had truly great plans for Anilsanatne. She had become my new eye
within the Chasm, even if it time she would no doubt attempt (and fail!) to
deceive me. And yet after witnessing Thurmonbrue, now Anilsanatne, utterly
destroyed by their process, I am even more certain of this image etched
within my mind--that of the other way. A transformation cast by the vision of
the Truth, the pure Will itself unleashed, such magic as has never been
wielded before by the mortral mind. Perhaps I shall have to visit this Priest
they spoke of, whom I hear also maintains the company of the Coven's
Mistress. There is always another way, yes, and the Fathers Eye shall seize
upon it.

***************************************************************************************

It was so long ago that I set out with the Voice to open the Gates of this
Temple. And now Quarissa has finally fallen to the ravages of Time. Thus a
void remains. The revenants grow unsettled with the silence, even as their
numbers flourish. Perhaps this void shall inspire another to rise up and
seize their potential. A few young ones emerge from the ether. For I am
content as the Eye, yet should it come my time to speak more than watch, I
would see to it with great diligence. A leader, a speaker, a visionary, all
of these things I can be, fueling the Cult. We shall need a Voice soon, yes.
As is the Will of the Father, it shall be as my own.

Immortal Comments

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