The Embers: An Occultist's Notes
By: Apollodorus Posted on: December 01, 2012
- 7th of Lupar, in the year 609 AF -
Today I begin my experiments upon the embers of Ashaxei. They are scattered, and the rabble is full of confusion and disorder, but I acquired one small ember from the wizard Hycanthus in the Western Vashnars. He did not want to part with it, but his strength has never held against mine.
I have four novices out searching for other embers. They do not have the strength to wrestle with the mighty, but I hear from my colleagues that embers are being found in the most unlikely of places, so their efforts might yet bear fruit.
As for the ember itself: it is small, glows with white flame, and is cool to the touch. Curiously, when I hold it in my hand, I feel something deep within me stir. Experiments upon novices show no change in their auras when they hold it, but they seem to experience a slight enhancement of both their mental and physical characteristics. More work on this needs to be done.
- 9th of Lupar, in the year 609 AF -
I went to the market today for myrrh and echinacea. Everyone there is talking about the ormyrr. Apparently bands of them are hunting down anyone who possesses an ember of Ashaxei. Terrible violence follows; none have yet successfully resisted them. But these bands have not yet dared come into the city itself. Ashtan remains unbreached, and my ritual chambers and laboratories are well protected. I should be at no risk.
- 17th of Lupar, in the year 609 AF -
My novices brought me an additional three embers today. Apparently they were being kept in the Fortress of the Beast by Bearnath and his masked cultists. Typical of those barbaric fools to meddle in matters beyond their power. The embers are safely in my laboratory now, though at the cost of one of my novices, who was torn to shreds by a Beastlord cerberus. No matter. She showed little promise.
- 18th of Lupar, in the year 609 AF -
The embers, when brought together, spontaneously merged and fused into one! It looked to be the same, but my measurements reveal that it weighs four times as much as the original. That is to say: it weighs as much as the four embers that were fused to create it. Curious indeed.
- 23rd of Lupar, in the year 609 AF -
I went to Fire and Spice this evening to complete an exchange with one of my colleagues. While there, I overheard two younger Occultist adepts arguing over something known as the Fire Behind the Flame. Though their grasp of technical cosmology was appalling, when I questioned them, I was able to learn of this strange energy described by the ancient Aldar warrior, Han-Tolneth. Though I find their description hard to believe, this Fire Behind the Flame clearly seems relevant to my current endeavours.
- 25th of Phaestian, in the year 609 AF -
It took me no less than a month to procure a shard of the Demon Mirror. It has now been more than two hundred and fifty years since that mirror was broken by the conclave, so perhaps I should not be surprised that even slivers of it are now becoming hard to find, even for one with my connections. Some substitute must be discovered soon, or certain branches of ritual will become entirely impossible.
Nonetheless, I found one and used it for the eighth rite of igneous communion. The fire elemental I caught in the mirror was not especially communicative at first, but the silver knife and the copper thread soon compelled him to answer my questions. I record them here, translated into common.
Me: By the rivers of Nuskuwe, come the flames of this ember from your father's court, Kkractleson?
Him: They come not thence.
Me: By the mountain of Harae, are these flames of spirit matter, Kkractleson?
Him: They are not.
Me: By the forge of Phaestus, are these flames of the realm of Creation, Kkractleson?
Him: They are.
And with that, the mirror was broken and the spirit was gone, leaving me with more questions than answers. The flames are neither material nor spiritual nor chaotic, it seems. I am annoyed at the prospect of having to admit the existence of a power thus far unknown to me, but it seems that I may be forced to accept the existence of the Fire Behind the Flame, whatever that is.
- 3rd of Chronos, in the year 609 AF -
I purchased an ember from a Warlock for no small sum, but it was worth it. My ember is now easily two pounds heavy and can illuminate the whole laboratory just with its own light. When I hold it, I experience a small surge in my own mental powers. The experience is remarkably similar to that of walking in the favour of a God, and it is somewhat intoxicating. I must take care not to grow addicted.
- 10th of Chronos, in the year 609 AF -
Impudence! Hubris of the first order! One of my apprentices, a grook of moderate talent, today decided to steal the ember and use it to challenge me! I think he thought its empowering effects would make him my superior. He tried to warp me. Me! Like I was some rat on the street. When I finished laughing, I showed him what it means to challenge a true Occultist. I extended my tentacles from beneath my robes and grappled him to the ground, holding him there while I showed him visions of madness and obscenity. When his mind was thoroughly destroyed, I knocked the ember from his grasp and summoned open a pit right there in the middle of the laboratory. His shrieks lingered for long moments after he was pulled in, but they served as a good warning to the other novices, who were huddled in the next room. Golgotha take his impudent soul.
- 24th of Chronos, in the year 609 AF -
Today I journeyed to the Tower of the Moon and Stars in Hashan to talk to a senior Spiritwalker. I suspect him of being a follower of Twilight, but I didn't survive this long by not knowing how to keep secrets from the Dark Order. What he told me essentially confirmed my own research: the power of the embers is not spiritual. Rather, it seems to pertain somehow to the soul. But not to life essence, the raw stuff of all souls which necromancers trade in and Ugrach craves. No: the fire of the embers pertains to something else, something akin to divinity itself.
The prophecies of Caymus are of course familiar to me, as are the enigmas of the Flame of Yggdrasil and Ashaxei's dragon ritual. These must all be connected somehow. It is imperative that I find out.
I convinced the Spiritwalker to show me his ember, which he keeps in a small wooden box on his person. I was pleased to see that it was considerably lighter than mine, which hung in a black bag around my neck. (I still feared addiction to its power, but I could not risk it being stolen by another novice.)
Purchasing a bottle of absinthe from the Eventide Alehouse for the Demiurge, I made my way back to Ashtan.
- 11th of Glacian, in the year 609 AF -
The Demiurge is concerned about the political implications of my work. Pah! Apparently the world is in an uproar about the death of Ashaxei, and the ormyrr are growing increasingly bold in their attacks. The Overseer and his council want to explore the possibility of using the embers to resurrect Ashaxei. As if I would have any interest in such nonsense. A pox on all dragons and their wars; I am studying the very stuff of Godhood in my laboratory!
I eat skullcap daily, and so I was able to perceive when my Spiritwalker friend was slain by ormyrr warriors, presumably for his ember. They caught him in the Darkenwood, the fool. Served him right; he gloated far too freely about that ember.
- 14th of Glacian, in the year 609 AF -
Today a priestess of the Shallamese Citadel sent me a heavy ember by mail. She is the daughter of an old friend, and her loyalty has often proven useful to me. She understands that no scholar in Shallam has a chance of understanding the Fire Behind the Flame, and she hopes to be rewarded should I make any great discovery. She may not yet be disappointed.
- 1st of Mayan, in the year 609 AF -
The ember burned me! It is now almost three and a half pounds, and it exhibits strange and unusual new behaviours. Today its flames, which have thus far been cool to the touch, lashed out from the centre of my ritual circle and burned my hand. I still have the mark: bright red, even after the application of mending salve.
I do not understand this. How can this fire, which is not fire, burn my flesh? Why does it grow more volatile as it grows heavier? So much about this thing is still shrouded in mystery.
- 3rd of Sarapin, in the year 610 AF -
Had a near escape today. I was teaching one of my novices how to summon goat-drawn chariots for flight, and we ended up venturing far to the north as she attempted to direct the creatures. (Luckily I had left the ember locked in my laboratory that day, my other novices having grown too frightened of its flares to approach it). She crashed to the ground near Morindar, where we met one of my Warlock friends who had been exploring the ruins.
It turns out my Warlock friend must have been incautiously carrying an ember with him, for we were soon ambushed by a party of ormyrr, great lizard things with fearsome weapons. The Warlock tried to fight, and, to his credit, he managed to strike the largest of them with a powerful stormhammer spell before he was cut down. I knew better: as the first ormyrr came into view, I instantly converted my body into astral energy and escaped unseen. My novice was slain almost as an afterthought -- casually -- her mangled remains crumpled over her broken chariot. I actually feel some remorse over that one; she didn't deserve such a fate.
- 14th of Sarapin, in the year 610 AF -
With a few additional contributions, my ember is now even weightier, and my strength when I carry it is even more fearsome. Taking the ember, I ventured into the sewer earlier this afternoon. When I was ambushed by thugs, my Occult power was great enough that I was able to slay all three of them with a single gesture. The flesh sloughed off their bones in a most satisfying manner, and I was able to gather many useful components from their corpses.
As an additional experiment, I had three novices attempt to attack me while I was holding the ember. Not only was my body more resistent to their blows, but the fires of the ember actually lashed out and incinerated one of the novices! I had to sweep his ashes up myself as the others ran away in a shameful fit of cowardice, but these results are most heartening. Should one manage to control such power, total invulnerability is not an unthinkable prospect. I must keep this a secret.
- 2nd of Daedalan, in the year 610 AF -
An ormyrr squad attempted to come into Ashtan today. The Ashurans managed to drive them off -- proving once again why we tolerate the presence of their monastery in our city -- but dozens were killed and it was not a sure thing.
- 16th of Daedalan, in the year 610 AF -
The Mhaldorians have made some sort of bargain with the ormyrr, it seems. I hear strange rumours -- that the Mhaldorians are gathering embers, that demons are involved, and that the priests of the Twin Lords have received instruction from the Gods of Evil. This is most unsettling. Could they too be close to understanding the divine power within these embers? I must hurry. I will not be shown up by some putrid necromancer.
- 18th of Daedalan, in the year 610 AF -
I have issued a request to my fellow Occultists that they bring me any embers they might acquire. While I cannot command them, I am senior enough that my "requests" have a certain weight. Already my study has been visited by three gremlins and one crone bearing packages from their Ashtani masters. My ember grows by leaps and bounds.
- 21st of Daedalan, in the year 610 AF -
Another novice dead, this time on purpose. Needed to summon a serious entity, one with enough knowledge to give me real advice. Difficult to think properly after a conversation with him. Insight no doubt worth the headache and the dead novice. Servelan's bones, this is potent stuff.
- 25th of Daedalan, in the year 610 AF -
Had to give the novices the week off. While giving them a lecture on pineal fluid, the ember in my hands suddenly surged with fire that burned not just me, but everyone standing around me. None of them died, but they were all quite badly wounded. Had to call in a favour from an alchemist friend for the salves to treat their burns. In the meantime, have to see to the upkeep of the sigils myself.
- 4th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
I spent the last week in the south, doing research in the Library of the Ancients beneath Azdun. I left my ember in the care of my colleague, a fellow Occultist whom I trust. Candlemas refused to speak with me, as usual, and the Aldar books proved basically useless, as I suspected. Nevertheless I am now able to dismiss several of the older theories about the nature of the Gods -- that They are merely great spirits or powerful immortal mages -- and that is satisfying.
While I was working in the library, an Apostate from Mhaldor attacked me. He seemed to know about my ember. One of my students must have betrayed me. If I had not thought to leave it behind in Ashtan, all of my work might have been lost.
The battle was long and fierce, his necromancy against my Occultism. But at last I broke his mind, and he fell to the floor screaming and gibbering until my Chaos hound ripped out his throat. His daemon familiar fled, pursued by my silent minions, but I was more interested in what fell from his hands: an ember, almost as big as my own.
- 7th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
The excitement of the past few days is almost beyond description. When I returned to Ashtan and combined the Apostate's ember with my own, I felt a strange new power running through my body: a power I've never before known. Elementalism! A skill that takes a lifetime of careful magical practice to learn, comparable to my own Occultism, granted to me just by the weight of this ember in my hand. I feel its fires flow through me, enhancing my soul and raising me to the plateaus of the divine.
I was going to carefully question my remaining novices to find out which had betrayed me, but why bother? I killed them all with lashes of fire from my fingertips! To think that just a few months ago I was using shards of some dusty old mirror to talk to fire elementals. Now I can conjure them with a word!
- 8th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
One of my novices was the Demiurge's son. I had forgotten, in the excitement. But who cares? Let her try to punish me. She may be older than me and more experienced in the ways of Occultism, but my Occult power is now complemented by the fires of the elements! Does she not realise that I am now practically a demigod?
No more research. What need have the Gods for research? I want to see if my new power is sufficient to create a holocaust globe.
- 9th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
My new power is sufficient to create a holocaust globe. No one will miss that one brothel, surely. The city can build something nice in its ashes.
- 10th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
The Demiurge has cast me out from the ranks of the Occultists, that over-inflated witch. She accused me of succumbing to madness, of challenging her authority. It was one stormhammer! She didn't even die. I just wanted her to truly understand my new power, so that she could submit and acknowledge me as the new master of the Occultists. None of the others would follow me, the cowards.
- 11th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
I have apparently been declared a criminal by the council of Ashtan. Even now the city guards search the streets for me. It will take them some time to find this laboratory. This is her doing. I will not let her have the satisfaction of acquiring my library and equipment. Let it all burn! What need have I of such petty mortal nonsense?
- 12th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
I have fled the city, cutting through the guards as if they were made of butter. I could have fought indefinitely, but the Ashuran dragons eventually arrived. Curse them and their mindless blubbery bulk! I ran, and now I hide in the ruined temple of Makali. Appropriate, ne? With my chameleon tattoo and concealing gem, I should be able to evade detection here long enough to learn how to master the powers of this ember more perfectly.
- 14th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
The ember burned me again, as it has many times, but this time with a ferocious intensity. I am still recovering, and, to be honest, I quite nearly died. I do not possess sufficient karma to guard my soul, nor can I acquire more while I remain hidden in this temple. Worrying.
- 20th of Aeguary, in the year 610 AF -
I am now certain that I am doomed. This ember burns me again and again. I have no more potions of healing. If I leave this temple, I will surely be slain either by the minions of the Demiurge or by the dragons of Ashtan.
Even now, I cannot cast it away. Its cold white flames hang bewitching before my eyes, even as I know that at any moment they will lash out to slay me. I cannot endure another burn. The crumbling statue of Makali offers no comfort, only more fire. My tarot cannot protect me. I no longer have the strength of mind to inscribe the priestess. My boar tattoo has faded, that final Logosian protection lost.
How can this be? The promise of divinity hovers just out of reach. This did not happen to Maran, nor Elentari, nor Dawn and mighty Servelan. How could they rise to become immortal while I die here beneath the uncaring statue of Makali? Why am I not able to grasp this fire, to control it, to make it my own? Why am I not worthy of this legacy?
The ember begins to flare again even as I write these words. By all the voices of the abyss, I -