Book of Oblivion

From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

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A foreboding and nightmarish figure surrounded by dark energies covers this tome.

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Oblivion

Oblivion has commanded That there should be a Communion of his servants.

That his children should Join together in holy vision. Ah, another mortal.

Seeking power, tis certain, and I can indeed teach thee of power. Greater power than thine repulsively insignificant mind canst possibly fathom.... the power of life and death. The power of Unlife.

This power that I offer doth come at a price that few are willing to pay. But bide a moment, mortal, and I shall teach thee some few things. Thou hast earned that much at least; gaining an audience with me has proven to be no small feat for those of thine most pathetic ilk.

--The Convergence of Unmaking --

Thou must know, firstly, of the Convergence of Unmaking. Tis the unholy union of the two... the morbid conflagration of Oblivion and the eternal serpent of Entropy.

-- Oblivion --

To be sure, thou hast heard of what mortals know as the Vortex, that central core of the ethereal void... that source of all life, matter, and energy -- and most of what thou knowest as "magic" -- in thine universe. Tis equally sure that thou hast no knowledge of the existence of a black, twisted mirror of this Vortex... a counterclockwise unmaking... a corruption. An ultimate ending point, so to speak. The final state of all matter and energy, the source of what is known to some as the Black Art, Necromancy. Quite simply, Oblivion.

-- Entropy --

Ah, the force Entropy. If not for Entropy's dark, sensuous caress, there would be no Oblivion of which to teach thee. For Oblivion doth hunger, and tis Entropy which doth sate this hunger. Death and decay... the rotting to nothingness of all that is. All that shall, in time, no longer be. The fallen champion on the field of battle, the rusted blade, the once mighty tower which doth now crumble to dust. The sable serpent who did beget the child Oblivion. All this, living one. All this is Entropy.

-- Undeath --

Entropy doth make its all-pervading presence felt on your world in many ways. Perhaps the most reviling to thine kind are the Undead. Once mortal beings like thineself, they passed into Oblivion and were found to have certain... qualities... desirable to the force of Entropy... which did suit them to the state of Undeath. Thus these immortal beings were sent back unto the world of the living in that form. Most undead are what thou mightiest call "mad," having retained no trace of sanity in the transformation to undeath. The most powerful, and somewhat less insane, serve me directly, and have no compunction whatsoever about sending their less cognizant brothers back to Oblivion. Save perhaps the Priests, although theirs is another matter entirely, and not for thine ears... yet.

-- Eternity --

The Convergence of Unmaking, mortal, is eternal, knowing neither beginning nor end; it is the compulsion for all that exists to progress toward a state of ceasing to exist. Mine followers see that this is the natural order of thine universe, and act as agents of the force of Entropy in order to feed Oblivion. They have found that if one serves the Convergence through me, it has much to offer in return. I shall accept only the most able of mortals into mine cold embrace, and they know that their true place is within Oblivion, where they alone shall exist, undying, when all is consigned unto it. They are immortal.

And now that thou knowest some small inkling of the power, breather, thou shouldst know of the price. To become immortal, to enter into my service, thou must first cast off thine claim to this world of mortality and all that thou hast held dear. Thine life as thou dost know it shall come to an end, whether or not thou dost become one of the Unliving. For although there are mortals within mine fold, all are soulless. Thus the price, weak one, is thine soul. Cast it off, embrace me, and discover whether or not thou art of the worthy...

-- Entropic Chant --

I am the thorn in the foot, I am the blur in the sight I am the worm at the root, I am the thief in the night I am the rat in the wall, the leper that leers at the gate I am the ghost in the hall, herald of horror and hate I am the rust on the corn, I am the smut on the wheat Laughing man's labor to scorn, weaving a web for his feet. I am canker and mildew and blight, danger and death and decay The rot of the rain by night, the blast of the sun by day I warp and wither with drought, I work in the swamp's foul yeast I bring the black plague from the south and leprosy in from the east I am the shrill cold spirit that chills the darkness you feel after dark I am the chaos that tears stars apart. You cannot escape me You cannot defeat me You can only embrace me