Triade et Machinus
From The Madronnesian Wars
[edit] Foreword
It is only by the recent efforts of our esteemed archaeologists that the words presented here are even known. Found scattered throughout various ruins located primarily in the Foresaken Ashes region of the Territolta, the Triade et Machinus scrolls paint a picture of not only our ancestors, the original Phosians, but just as well the lineage of our noble neighbors, the Materrau. While these words seem grave, bleak, and even hopelessly fanatical, they are, no doubt, some of the most significant clues to our cryptic origins on the Old World. Predating even the Praefiat, these scrolls are exceedingly ancient, each written by a different author, some even by the Imperial Materrau of yore, providing a wide spectrum view into the older days of violent religious wars, expanding technologies, and the advent of true society. Presented in no particular order, the following excerpts are what is 'legible' from the various mediums that echo our past, whether they be deteriorating papyrus to degraded data cores, statuettes to etched armor plates. Keep in mind, as well, while perusing these archives that the content and side notes are subject to constant change as more archaeological finds are unearthed.
[edit] Cariggi Data Core
Discovered in a ruined Phosian citadel on Mortilleum the Cariggi Data Core, named for the most prominent author within its archives, details some of the vast bioengineering prowess of the Proto-Phosian “Priests” as well as giving a few precious moments of insight on the mysterious Clamus Amori. The following is a recorded monolog of the high-priest Cariggi -Dr. Misiic, Head of Frontier Excavations.
We brought life to our gods by their own divine inspiration, their flawless designs made true by our devoted hands. They are able to walk among us because we, the unwavering, built their vessels such that they may grace us with their everlasting wisdom and presence. We built our gods from the dirt, from the air, from the plants, from the animals. Though we did not build them…they built their self. We would be naught but peasants, nay, animals without the gods’ guiding hands. Their gift to us is timeless.
However, though it may be blasphemous to even think so, the gods, while the most perfected and glorious of all of our creations, may dim in comparison to something as small as a mustard seed. It is the vision…my vision, that true holiness, true devotion, true enlightenment, is to be as one of the gods, to harness the power we have bestowed unto them. I forget myself…their power was granted to them by only their own prowess…we are merely the messengers of their power. HOWEVER, is it not by that very divine inspiration by which I speak now? It cannot be both a blessing and a sin, though I shan’t pervert the words of old by my own musing. I shall merely stand by that what I am about to discuss is harmless by all accounts, even according to the grand pillars of our flawless ideology.
[Cariggi, or from what we can tell from the analysis of the recording, begins pacing his room, apparently very nervous] This has caused me a great deal of anxiety; such tireless research, in both sin and glory. The results are not overly impressive, at least not to the deceiving eye. It is pure essence of the ground, of our world, incarnated in a simple form, derived from a genetic code I am unfortunately very proud of. It drained me so, such intense work, so many failures…For fifty years I have worked on the essence in mortal darkness, though I am well aware that my deeds might as well transpired in the middle of the Temple for nothing is unknown to the gods. I would only hope the pillars speak the truth about the Holy Laws…
[Cariggi stops for a moment and suddenly falls to the ground with his hands on the floor] Of course they do! What is this petty project doing to my faith!? Even if it is not a sin, it breeds it. I must destroy it for the sake of my soul. But…I can’t. I’ve wasted my mortal life if I do. And it is so beautiful…and powerful. At the end, with a perfect specimen lying in my hands, I was near death from tireless devotion to this essence, this seed of might. With only a tiny portion, I was re-vitalized as the energy of our world flowed through me as if I were a mere extension of its grand and endless power. That was not all…I felt as if I had the very air at my command, moving chairs and books across the room with mere suggestion. I caused one chair to immolate with even more concentration, another to burst into a shower of splinters. I ingested even more, lusting to prolong this godly power. Soon, I was able to see the very flow of time form around me, as if it had been in plain view all along. I thought I had achieved true enlightenment, seeing the present, past, and future all at once, somehow making sense of it all. I even saw my own death…
But it was as the fruit from the parables, the fruit of SIN. I had unlocked knowledge, yes! Knowledge reserved for the gods. We mortals were never meant to hold this at our command. But even as I say this, with the dark seed in my hand, I cannot deliver it from my body. At least not to let it perish. Though I can never let it be spread throughout the Temples. The seed causes dark thoughts, lust for power, unholy ambitions. I must send it away, to let it sow its destruction in a kingdom already rife with sin. I will send it away to the Kingdom of Sick-Light, on the sleeves of one of its mongrel children. I…captured one such. I’m not sure why, though I think I acted so because of what I saw in the Time Flow. I can’t remember it all, but the echoes of it compelled me. It may even be calling me to do what I am doing now.
[Cariggi goes out of camera range though the device is still picking up his voice] They say one keeps a diary only such that one day someone else will read his or her secrets. Maybe this is why I am telling you, tiny machine, the story of my largest regret. Maybe this is my way of trying to achieve redemption for sins unimaginable. I’m not sure. However, I am sure of this. Tomorrow, the noble childe will ride back into his Sodom, with him the fruits of sin riding upon his back, of which I will leave up to him to name. I shall not give it one. I am also sure it was no incident I saw my death, though I have to wonder if it would have occurred had I not…seen it. Forgive me. [There is a yank sound off in the distance and the camera goes off, most likely due to a time setting].
[edit] Civitas Mos: The Fool's Dystopia
An old, Phosian manuscript, Civitas Mos would eventually become one of the single most important texts in the creation of the eventual Uncara State. Unfortunately, the author of this particular chapter is unknown. The first copy of the manuscript was found, along with most of the entire Civitas Mos aboard the ruins of the Al'Dagen, one of the generation vessels that parted with the main fleet upon the Phosian's escape from the Old World. Other copies of this manuscript, along with other chapters, have been found among other Phosian ruins. Obviously, the philosophical State, upon which the Uncara State is based, has been in existence longer than previously thought -Dr. Misiic, Head of Frontier Excavations.
The State is forever, a creation of flawless philosophy and undying will. It is physical only to those that can’t comprehend it. It is as a god, surrounding us without filling an ounce of space , knowing us without meeting us, making us secure, though wanting of weapon or war. For this, the State cannot be thought of as something that can be seen or unseen, maintained or destroyed. It is beyond all of this. It is immortal, a thought as much as a nation, an ideal as much as a force. It is everything, even when it is nothing. And when it is nothing, nothing more than a singular thought, it is suddenly much more real than ever before, for the State is purest as a philosophy, most potent as a thought, more powerful as an ideal. Reality distorts, for the fool, inflicted by his namesake, believes with his eyes rather than his head. Foolishness in itself is an increasingly contagious disease, spreading from below, from the ranks of the proles and the plebs, and from the secluded ivory towers, flanking those that immerse themselves neither in the filthy wash nor the educated ignorance, tearing them to believe what they are told, what they see, or what they are told to see. Indeed, this is why the State exists pristine in the confines of one’s mind, the mind that can comprehend it. Let not its splendor be dashed upon those dull heads, for surely they will never understand-they will ask that god-forsaken question, WHY? Only by that does the foolish one become his own answer. It is a blind question, always cursed to be utterly useless outside fabrications. Reality does not answer to this clamoring, neither does the Creator. Upon the ending, what weight does WHY hold? Does it change anything? Does knowledge ultimately aid the broken spirit? WHY doesn’t matter.
HOW and WHAT and WHEN and WHO and WHERE are essential, but the foolish cannot see beyond WHY. The ignorant seek knowledge lest they remain ignorant, but only the foolish seek knowledge that leads to the fruitless terminal. There is no WHY of the State, flawless as it is. It simply is. Yet, the foolish, vulgar man that he is, insists upon that insidious question, and to that, the Statesman can answer It is because of thou. The State is because of the foolish, the willfully ignorant, the mindless, gaping idiots that wait until commanded to “think.” It is because of the trash that fills the streets, the filth that congests the night. It is because of the capitalists that glut themselves upon which should never be owned. It is because of the recognized who are no more deserving of recognition as they are of their own life. It is because of the one who is no more than a consuming body, built only to produce even more replications of itself. It is because of thou!
However, the Statesman could never let this foolish man, though as innocent as Cain, receive the full fury as to WHY, for alone a foolish man would surely die. Only in a world of fools is he sated and safe. It requires a dystopia, perfectly imperfect, where the grub that hug to its foundation celebrate their enslavement with their mindless droning. Alone, deprived of its colony, does not the lowly grub shrivel and die, robbed of its nourishment? What then, is the fool’s nourishment? Indoctrination? Ultimate Security? Cheap Entertainment? Pre-Fabricated Thoughts? Who supplies these items by which the masses are sated and so blindly loyal to their dystopia? Perhaps the ominous mastermind, demigod of a man that has ultimately proven every conspiracy theory correct? Nay, it is nothing so sinister, or, god forbid, as well thought out. It is merely the consequential hive mind of such concentrated ignorance, much like a herd of sheep retaining its shape despite lacking the guiding hand of a shepherd. At that, the foolish are very adept at maintaining their dystopia, provided materials are abundant. Unlike the State, which is neither stagnant utopia nor hellish dystopia, the fool’s paradise is simply unsustainable. They are as locusts, eating away at what will sate their immediate lusts. Naturally, that is why all nations fall, built upon the timeless model of this dystopia of glut. WHY then is the State, if thou must really know? It is because, at once, one turned the pages of history back, and read of the fool’s paradise, whose periodic, unceasing presence in the flow of time remained unbroken, for, as you see, fools fear, above all else, change. The State is change, and the fool’s reign is over. There will be no more dystopia.