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[h3]The Present[/h3][/center][hr]
Through threshold did the Presence tread into its sovereign realm. His attention laid upon its many layers, Mhaireann watched as the prismatic essence of the Roineagan danced upon itself. Twisting, twirling--writhing, whirling--the endless pattern moved. There was beauty in its motion, but so too was there order and this thing the Presence hated.
 
Disgusted, the black-eyed god turned its lidded gaze elsewhere, delving through the infinite threads of the Subtle Weave to peer into Galbar. What he saw appalled him. The weft and weave of that solid place had been divided by the gods. Perhaps not with knowing had they done this thing, yet nonetheless it was clear.

[color=#234C5F][b]"Order,"[/b][/color] he spat and the word trembled through the Dream. Reaching forth, the Dreaming God called upon his earthly avatar. It came swiftly, arriving from afar.

[color=#234C5F][b]"Faireachan A-staigh,"[/b][/color] he said, pressing into its mind. It did not resist. So it was that the Dread-god's Presence inhabited half-earthly substance.

Swimming through the Subtle Weave, he sought out a spreading plague. Twas a malus he'd bestowed so that mortals might scream and beg. With ease, he found its taint upon the Endless Web and so he slipped into the world. Manifesting in a town most small did Mhaireann's avatar, its many drops of moisture coalescing and turning black as tar.

Spread out all around him were many dying men. He reached out and touched them, curious at their state. Swiftly it became clear why they'd fallen. Each and every one suffered not just from his hateful blight but also from the needs of supple mortal flesh. That simply would not do.

Though Faireachan had none, Mhaireann slid back his lidded eyes and stared out into the world. Like a horrid fog, a black miasma seeped out from every drop of the avatar's liquid form. It spread slowly from him and where it touched the fallen it pressed into their flesh. Every pore, every orifice pulled in the sickly mist, and once every mortal had been touched it fled and was not missed. With his work finished, Mhaireann turned away, though the avatar remained. Disturbed as it observed the risen bodies of those who would have soon from life departed, Faireachan quietly wept for its master, knowing now of its plight. The avatar, in its sadness, knew that the world would suffer for its rage and its madness.

For in every direction the sick of mind rose to their feet. Their cheeks filled in, their thirsts were parched, and their minds grew clear and eager. Perhaps they might think the sickness passed, their selves returned, their minds no longer fevered.

It was not so. For a twisted blessing had been bestowed upon them.

Unable to stomach the terrible sight, yet knowing it must stay, the Dreaming Watcher closed its perception, following those mortals only by the taint that they left upon the weave.

Truly, no good could come of this.

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Among the once famished villagers stood a single man. He was fair of flesh, his hair an auburn hue and unlike the others his eyes were stained black by the terror-plague that he contained.

Annhein was his name.

Broken by the once-growing seed of madness that now had infected the Dreaming God, Annhein looked upon his people...and smiled.

[color=#961134][b]“Come,”[/b][/color] he said, and his voice struck the heartstrings of his people, pulling at their sundered minds. His smile grew, his eyes a whirling dance of red-black haze.

Turning his gaze to the horizon, he set out, renewed by the blessing of his god, knowing what he must do. They made their way for a place outlined in his mind. To the north of the great Anchor of the World. To the Highlands. He knew that they would find what they sought there. He knew they would find the untainted.

The thought brought laughter bubbling from his lips. It was a sound like a broken lute being played, painful, and strained. His people followed dutifully and even packed up their things. With a casual gesture and a too-easy smile Annhein and his fellows set aflame the small houses of the village they had once called home. Not a single tear was shed, not even by the smallest child. In fact, he found that he felt only a deep elation swelling in his chest.

[i]’How wonderful,’[/i] he thought [i]’...that the Dreamer would give us this gift.’[/i] A flash of sensation spread all at once over his senses and he shuddered, clawing at his neck for a moment before it passed. He felt something wet settled on the very crown of his head...then vanish. Laughing he turned.

The other villagers, as if they had heard his thoughts, each held a smile, nodding to him as if agreeing. Laughing and jubilant as they departed the burning wreckage of their homes, his fellow-men celebrated the return of their lord. This was truly a great age.

[hr]
Diminished in spirit, if not in power, Faireachan phased back into the Dream and spread out its mind. There it remained, observing the workings of the world. Glowing like a beacon in the distance, Faireachan watched the destination of those whose minds were lost to the world.

He hoped they never completed their journey to the great bastion of the north. To Acadia.
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[h3]2 Weeks Ago[/h3][/center][hr]
He stood before the great gates of a sprawling city in a land whose shores he’d walked for the first time in his life. Yet, he knew the names of these things, for upon the wind did whisper all the spirits of every grass and stone and gust.

[i]Pakohu,[/i] they whispered.

[i]Fragrance,[/i] they sang.

Humming along with them, he called upon the Subtle Web and weaved himself new eyes. From the dancing essences of his song, and the strength of his will, the alien silver of his sclera of his prismatic eyes fading to white as a gentle illusion settled over his eyes. Brown of hue, but strangely deep with flecks of hazel if one looked closely, his eyes fell again upon the walls of the city.

Making his approach, Fein could not help but glide across the ground. There was a poise to his movements, like a dancer whose body could not forget the rhythm of his craft. So it was that he came upon the closed gate of the city. Rather than call out however, he closed his eyes and [i]listened[/i].

Whispering winds of whimsy passed him over, the thoughts of the ever-present weave of the Dream washing through his awareness. With only the sound of his breathing, he did nothing further to disturb the quiet of that place, instead trying to understand why his way was barred and no guards were posted.

Slowly, the emanations of truth reached him, sifted by the sieve of his intent. These were the experiences and truths of all that which lived and breathed on Pakohu.

They spoke of men, but not like him. They prowled the night and made hardly a noise. Light was their bane. So, as the sun beat down upon his shoulders and head they hid within their buildings doing as he did. Listening.

Smiling, he gently drifted to the earth, seating himself a span or so from the gate of Fragrance. There, in utter silence, he respected their vigil and took in the subtle sensation of the corner of this world they called home.

Quietly, he whispered a single word, so faint that Fein himself would not have heard it if it were not from his own lips.

[color=#7bc6bf][b]“Peace.”[/b][/color] He said, and it had a subtle beauty to it. The gentlest whisper of a song, of a rhythm yet given unto the world.

Fein let it hang there. He let the wind take up its sounds and cast them far and wide to weave their own subtle melodies. Sitting and breathing quietly, the wanderer waited for the night to come.

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[h3]The Present[/h3][/center][hr]
As the Presence delved into the depths of its rage at the world, a twisting trio of essences slipped the leash, pressing past the confines of their psychic prisons. Roiling through the Lifeblood of their own form, the three entities mourned what they could only parse as a profound loss.

Firinn had not responded to their plea, even if it had taken the form of a dreadful melody. Yet the Threefold mind of those essences knew what they must do. Spiraling out into a cacophony of feeling they overtook the titanic grasp of that hated sovereign Presence. They wrestled with it and, in their grief and knowing, they reached out into the world that had once been their home.

Like gentle threads of intention their psionic call rang out, plucking at the strands of the Dream, bleeding lifeblood out. The song that was writ of their anguish and loss was one of Perception. It was Reflection’s cost. In their twisting, pained rumination they felt the tug of Memory as they sang and so upon these threads each mind pulled, divesting of itself.

[indent][indent][indent]Woven into a thread of silver was the essence of its power, given freely to Reflect what their sibling had once given him before their resting hour. From the single cord there grew a startling hum, as if many droplets upon crystals fell like dew.

Golden light coalesced about the necklace, coiling and winding fast until it formed a second cord that spread down and formed an empty circlet through which only air did pass.

Drawn then by the powers of Reflection and Memory was a final thread of power, which coiled about itself, filling in the empty golden circlet. Winding tightly into a triquetra that prismatic sheen became a crystallized form of Perception, held fast by Memory.[/indent][/indent][/indent]
Soundlessly the artifact hit the ground, unaffected by its drop, it rested calm, its power a sign of mourning most profound. Unable to hold fast the vast fury of the Presence, the Threefold essences drew back within and as they did were so bound by the power of Mhaireann’s dark-eyed hymn.

So bowed and broken by the titanic will of that baleful Presence, the three took once more to clawing at the edges of their threefold prison, desiring to be free. Their enemy only scoffed and sought the target of their attentions. In a flash he found the Trinity’s creations all bound upon within one another. With a sneer and a glare, the dread-god summoned Faireachan. The avatar took hold of the artifact and awaited his instruction, its form trembling despite its fluid nature. Then, the Presence of that nightmare struck out at the objects and writ within their centerpiece a horrid curse.

Faireachan, dismayed, then through the Endless Dream traversed. He cast across Galbar, shifting to-and-fro, before finally he set once more ‘pon land and into the hands of Annhein delivered the prismatic pearl.

Beyond the mask of desolation that was Mhaireann’s facade, the Eldritch Twin--that Threefold God--wept at the cruelty of the action. Yet, not to be outdone, they wove a subtle dancing tune and warped Mhaireann’s accursed thrum. So the curse upon those artifacts was change in nature true--though it remained unknown to the Presence whose attention had gone elsewhere, once more askew.

So, biding their time, the Three essences awaited a day when finally the madness and rage of Mhaireann would be at last abated.

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Drifting above the soil of Galbar, the tainted avatar let the threefold artifact drop into the waiting clutches of Mhaireann’s chosen hero: Annhein. It was caught, the human meeting his gaze with a malicious, maddened ink-eyed stare. The outline of his human facade shuddered faintly, light scintillating over the surface of his current shape.

Taking the blessed item, Annhein draped it about his neck and sighed with relief as its powers washed through his awareness. They rippled across the shattered reaches of the mortal’s consciousness, perhaps mending subtle rifts in its fabric. The Watcher felt this and knew it must act in the interest of the Sleeping Three, if only subtly.

Placing the droplets of its vessel upon the consecrated flesh of the tainted human, Faireachan summoned up what paltry power he could and drew into the mindscape of the once bright-minded Annhein. Mind made up, will steeled, the avatar looked upon the mind of a man who had been broken more truly than perhaps any other who yet lived.

It was chaotic and utterly without pattern. Like a trillion shards of a shattered crystal, most edges jagged and writ with painful red and malignant black, while others still were smooth as if they’d been carved away by some ill-intended mind. Yet, it was worse than even this, for every piece was in motion, clashing and attempting an intricate weaving set of constantly shifting patterns. Annhein’s sundered mind was like a hundred dancers whose bones had been fractured who nonetheless attempted to continue on with their dance.

It was macabre, if not in the gory physical sense, then in a profound manner that struck the avatar. So affected, his own elevated intellect rang like a gong, its sound an emanation of deep and ever-growing sadness and sympathetic pain.

[color=#234C5F][i]“Weft and Weave have shattered you, yet they were meant to bind.”[/i][/color] mused the avatar, with sorrow in its voice. Pulling itself together, the liquid droplets of its form rendered abstract in their nature, Faireachan coalesced into a single glowing prismatic point within Annhein’s consciousness. He would not let this malady spread across the world, devouring all its potential only to sate the vengeful pact of the dread-god Presence.

So driven by the isolated influence of its original creators, the Watcher began its work. Spreading out, Faireachan coated every [i]surface[/i] in the unwell mind of the human, grafting itself across the many shattered forms of its twisting active hellscape. Then, he sunk into them, truly becoming his namesake.

[color=#234C5F][i]“I am the Watcher Within. I reject this chaos din. I deny its sundering and its pain. So split, let it once more be whole. Failing this, let it Reflect the Two-as-One instead.”[/i][/color]

Thus said, he made it so, binding together the many fragments and strands of Annhein’s mind with his own interwoven essence. He gathered of its material taking essence from various regions and intermingling them in others until a functional network of many minds was crafted within the consciousness of one. So it was that, with the power of Tessellation, Annhein’s mind was reborn [i]stronger[/i] than it had ever been.

Yet, before Faireachan could finalize its work and draw true inspiration from the vast minds of the Dreaming God, it was interrupted. Calling him from his task, Faireachan was wrested from Annhein’s consciousness and across the vast tracts of the dream. His work unravelled and he watched with sadness as the light left Annhein’s gaze, replaced with deathly darkness. The avatar wept for what had been lost.

Yet, his actions had left their mark upon both its own memory and that of the Subtle Weave. Perhaps, in time, something might come of the ripples that the Watcher had made.

With time, might those ripples--indeed--become a swell of mighty waves?

It was hard to say.

[hider=Summary]In which a Curse is laid upon the people of Annhein’s village--for them to share in his plight and his wondrous malevolent duty. Wherein Faireachan is lost in sorrow, and attempts to rebel against Mhaireann--but fails...in part. Meanwhile, the Threefold Essences of the Dreaming God briefly unhinge the gates of their prison to bring a new set of artifacts into the world.

Elsewhere, apart from it all, Fein comes to Fragrance where he awaits nightfall in the hopes of entering the insular city. He is likely in for quite a surprise.[/hider][hider=Might Summary][hider=Mhaireann][u]Start:[/u] 5MP, 5DP.

-2DP (Enhanced by Nightmares) -- Curse a Group (Small Town/Annhein).
-2MP -- Create Artifact (Band of Memory) / Memorial II (2MP towards Memory).
-2MP -- Create Artifact (Chain of Reflection) / Bridge II (2MP towards Reflection).
-1MP -- Create Artifact (Gem of Perception) / Paradigm I (1MP towards Perception).
-2DP (Enhanced by Tessellation) -- Create a Phenomena / Enkindling.
-1DP -- Bless Artifact (Gem of Perception) / Fade I.

[b][u]Mindblight:[/u][/b] This curse has two notable properties. The first is that it allows the Psychic Blight of Annhein to be spread by anyone so afflicted by it through continuous proximity. The second is its effect on the afflicted themselves, lending all but Annhein himself a seeming sense of normalcy as well as a loss of physical needs. The afflicted no longer require food or drink, though they can die of extreme exposure or lack of sleep. Though fully afflicted individuals can ostensibly care for themselves and act largely as if unaffected by Annhein’s Psychic Blight there is something off about them. If one pays attention they will discover that they do not eat or drink and have a strange fixation on routines and socializing. They can be disturbing clingy and stubborn to disengage in conversation, but only with the unafflicted. By and large cursed individuals will not associate with one another more than necessary and will--in fact--go out of their way to avoid others so affected by this dreadful malady.

The curse can be cured with sufficient prestige or by isolating the afflicted for seven days and seven nights so long as they do not sleep. Normal methods that prevent sleep remain effective. Similarly, those experienced with Dreamwalking may be able to slow the progress of the affliction in those who “catch” it, themselves excluded. Lastly, it is notable that individuals so afflicted by the Blight will almost always be in an inordinately good mood regardless of their circumstances.

[u][b]Band of Memory:[/b][/u] The Band of memory is a cord of what appears to be liquid silver with pristine reflective properties. While not indestructible, any attempt to damage it will be temporary, as the substance will inevitably reconstitute itself unless torn asunder and scattered across Galbar. On its own it allows--through the blessing upon it--the wearer to store and access memories. The artifact can be willingly given or parted with, at which point any memories held within will be accessible to whomever is its wearer. If taken against the wearer’s will the artifact’s stored memories will be inaccessible, though the new wearer may store and view their own memories. If a former holder of the Band is killed this will also remove the lock on stored memories. On its own, the Band cannot protect itself, but when interwoven with the other two artifacts made to accompany it...well, that is a different story.

[indent][i][u]Memorial II[/u] -- Allows specific memories to be stored within itself and pulled upon at will. One must wear the artifact for it to function. All memories held within it are kept permanently, but are only accessible by the individuals who originally placed them within itself unless said individuals willingly gave up the artifact or no longer dwell among the living. Any attempt to try to circumvent the protective aspects of this blessing will cause the artifact to temporarily wipe the user’s memory of its importance. This action will trigger one of its component’s effects.[/i][/indent]

[u][b]Chain of Reflection:[/b][/u] Taking the shape of a double-helix cord of liquid gold, with an empty circlet as a pendant, the Chain of Reflection acts much as its counterpart does. While not indestructible, it will reform unless destroyed utterly, though the amount of time this process takes is variable. It allows the wearer to mindmeld with one participant at a time so long as the intent of the user is not malicious.

[indent][i][u]Bridge II[/u] -- Bestows upon the object’s wielder the capacity to bridge minds with one individual at a time. Where Dreamwalking can do this with significant practice, it is unsafe unless both individuals are bestowed godly boons or are particularly advanced in the art. As a result, this blessing is particularly useful, allowing people who maintain contact to understand one another perfectly so long as it is in effect. While active, the affected will be able to clearly communicate both telepathically and empathically to their heart’s desire. However, the process can be very mentally draining, possibly resulting in exhaustion be it emotional or otherwise. The item will not work if the user has ill intentions for the intended target. If use is attempted under these circumstances not only will it fail, but this will trigger the third blessing--provided the three artifacts are entwined.[/i][/indent]

[u][b]Gem of Perception:[/b][/u] Forming what appears to be a flawless circular gem of prismatic hue, the Gem of Perception only appears this way when not in use. When worn--and active--the Gem will become so clear that it appears to be utterly imperceptible. Even touching it renders only a faint warmth entirely bereft of any specific texture or other sensation. If not placed in the Chain of Reflection’s circular mount, the Gem may be used by placing it over the center of the forehead.

[indent][i][u]Paradigm I[/u] -- The primary blessing upon the Gem, this allows the wielder of the artifact to subtly adjust their perception by dialing up or down their sensitivity in various senses. This includes all senses that they natively possess, even if they do not realize that they have them. However, dialing up senses the user has no knowledge of is markedly more difficult, requiring active focus. Repeated used of the artifact allows the user to become more skilled at making swift adjustments. The effects last for up to five minutes after activation when not working in tangent with its sibling artifacts. When used in tangent with the other three, this blessing may be activated and deactivated freely though with a greater tax on the user. Amplified senses are prone to overwhelming those who are not careful with the artifact’s use and one can render themselves permanently without a sense if they aren’t careful.

[u]Fade I[/u] -- Intended as a curse by the dark Presence Mhaireann, this blessing was warped and softened by the subtle influence of the trapped trinity of the Dreaming God. If the artifact is whole, this will trigger when it is misused, causing the entire set of artifacts to lose physical cohesion. This is accomplished by the very idea of their solidity being gradually abstracted, causing them to decouple physically. This will thus make the artifacts utterly irretrievable by those who misuse it. Once off their person, this effect will cease, causing the entwined artifacts to swiftly reconstitute.[/i][/indent][hr][i][u][b]Enkindling:[/b][/u][/i] Not yet complete, this process can reforge minds into a greater state than that which precedes it. Once affected, the Enkindled will gain a greater grasp of the Endless Dream and gain access to the art of Willcasting. This will additionally bolster their ability to Dreamwalk beyond that of the average mortal. Most will not ever undergo this process without some traumatic intervention. As a result, most Enkindled are the result of those whose minds have been shattered or somehow damaged. When this happens to them it binds their mind back together and draws essence from the Subtle Weave, empowering them and bridging the gap to regain some of what is lost--or at least endeavoring to replace it with something else. Unfortunately, the Enkindled are similarly disadvantaged as they are actually far more prone to mental maladies as various aspects of the Endless Dream can drift into their mind and make themselves quite at home.

[u]End:[/u] 0MP, 0DP.
[i]2/5 Memory Portfolio.
2/5 Reflection Portfolio.
1/5 Perception Portfolio.[/i]

[hider=Prestige]The Sleepless: 2+2(4).
The Seekers of Truth: 2+2(4).
Fein: 2+2(4).[/hider][/hider][/hider]