[center][h1]Epsilon[/h1]
[h2]Biluda[/h2]
[h2]Namshita[/h2][/center][hr]

The solar palace no longer sat at the zenith of the sky. It had, slowly and inexorably, drawn down to scorch the land in the far horizon; its yellow hues turned a burnt amber as it sunk into the land beyond. Their creator -- they knew him, instinctually, as their creator, had given them a command they did not understand and then had left them. Deep in their bones, they were obliged to obey. If a meaning could not be derived, then they would have to decipher it themselves.

Biluda was a ranger; clad in metal, fabrics, and wood alike. They had been given their name, seared onto their identity with the care a carpenter might provide a table or a chair. Their gaze wandered across the library, and all of the ambling Kynikos within. It settled upon another group that had congregated across the hall; mostly fellow rangers like Biluda, but a few scholars and guards mixed in as well. Striding forward, he went to find out what they were talking about.

A guard spoke as Biluda walked up, his tone heated, “We should stay inside! Our creator gave us no permission to leave this library. To leave would be blasphemous.”

Biluda butted in before any of the other rangers could speak, “Your purpose is obviously not to leave, but how can you ever apply that ruling to us? It is burned into our being; we must leave this place.”

The guards turned to glare at Biluda, and one of them rebutted, “We can apply that ruling because we are the enforcers of our creator. If we declare something is banned, then it is banned.”

Biluda tilted their head, “You are the enforcers; that much is true. But how does enforcing the laws of our creator mean you can also create those laws? Enforcement is an entirely separate beast.”

There was a brief silence as the guards sought a way to counter his argument. One threw up their hands in exasperation with a clank of metal, and eventually, one responded simply, “Fine. But don’t think I’ll be watching you. Break one rule, and you’re going down.”

Biluda turned away, motioning to the other rangers to follow him, as he said to the guards, “You are lucky there are no rules against being a sore loser. We’re heading out.”

They threw open the front gates of the academy, two massive wood-and-gold doors that dwarfed them five or six times over. The balancing was good; they felt nearly weightless to open. Biluda stepped out into the cool night air, the first Kynikos to leave the library. They felt something pulling on their mind, but they continued down the steps and into the field. They gazed out at the nearby pine trees, and their head began to ratchet up almost on its own. Something was calling to them.

The moon caught on the edge of their sight, and Biluda suddenly found themselves irresistibly attracted. Their head flung the rest of the way, so that the scarred and cratered jewel in the sky sat central in their vision. The world around them dimmed with their senses as they felt themselves focused solely on that object floating peacefully in the sky. They didn’t notice the others around them following their example. All they could think of was the moon.

Hours passed, they thought. The moon slowly moved in the sky, and they tracked it diligently with their eyes. Biluda felt an empty soul, and something about the moon filled them. Watching the moon [i]felt[/i] right, as though it gave them meaning where once there was none. Their instincts, their slaving to their creator screamed in fury; entirely unheard by the conscious mind or the gut. Vaguely, Biluda could feel a pounding ache, familiar to them. Was their creator watching? They heard the great door slam, muted as though a thousand miles away, and they found they could not focus on it.

[hr]

Namshita clutched the door, a great rage filling them as they watched the blasphemy unfold before them. Two glowing eyes emerged from an inky magical haze, covered by layers of cloth. Those eyes darted around the landscape, at the thousands of Kynikos staring listlessly to the sky. Nobody in the academy had noticed, until their creator, the golden-masked benefactor, had gone out and seen what had happened. The rest had found out when he had stormed back inside, muttering to himself as he locked himself in his private collection.

Knocking on the creator’s door had elicited no response. Some Kynikos relayed what they saw outside, and slowly the crowd rallied into a fury. Namshita was at the forefront, giving fiery damnations of the blasphemy and calling for retribution. They channeled all the despair of seeing their creator so clearly devastated, and forged it into a fiery, iron purpose. 

None of them went out. Fear wracked their souls as they avoided the call of the moon. If they went out, would they catch the curse as well? Namshita commanded the doors shut and the windows shuttered; they would wait for day, and then they would go out and make the blasphemers pay. The rest followed Namshita’s instructions, their furious drive evident to all.

When day came, the door was flung open; guards emerged first, guarding the scholars and rangers that had remained inside. They brought their weapons to bear against the blasphemers, forming a wall of weapons. The blasphemers, meanwhile, gathered into a ragged group, with Biluda at the helm.

[hr]

Biluda snapped out of their trance as the moon sank below the horizon, replaced by the warm fires of the sun. He looked over to find the mob forming outside of the academy, and with a few shouted calls had formed his own gathering. They shouted out to the mob, “What is the meaning of this? Why do you bear weapons against your fellows?”

Namshita responded, calling from behind the guards, their ruby-red eyes poking out from the magical haze that was their body, “You have blasphemed against our creator! Our holiness hides in private; furious at your transgressions!”

Biluda shot back, their tone indicative of shock, “We are still loyal to our creator! If we had displeased them, would they have not struck us down on the spot? It is within their power!”

Namshita yelled in response, enraged, “You can’t know what our creator can or can’t do! It is not our place to guess! You blaspheme again!”

Biluda shouted, their voice hoarse, “Then let us back into the academy! If we have committed blasphemy, we will accept the punishment only from our creator!”

Namshita wanted more than anything to kill the blasphemers on the spot, and be done with it. But a gnawing reason ate at them; Biluda’s request made sense. Surely Epsilon would deal with them, and then Namshita’s followers would be assured in their righteousness. To kill them now would only invite doubt in the future. Slowly, they turned to one of the guards, and, their voice faltering, they ordered, “Let them through. Keep them separate from the rest of us.”

The loyal Kynikos murmured as they parted, allowing Biluda’s group to walk past into the academy. They all followed behind, the guards keeping a clear distance between the loyal and the disloyal. That day they waited for Epsilon to emerge; he never did. It was tense, the library split into two sides, weapons drawn. Insults were slung, but ultimately it did not come to battle. Eventually, the day had to end.

Biluda’s fascination flared again as they felt the draw of the moon. They walked into the central atrium, along with their group. The loyal Kynikos, fueled by shouts from Namshita, bore arms, backing further into their side of the library, fearing an attack. That attack never came, as Biluda and their people walked out into the cool night air once more. Their eyes focused up on the moon, and they froze in place, the world dimming.

Namshita, desperate, fled to the doors to the private atrium, pounding their fist against it as they cried, “Blaspheme! Help us, blaspheme is being committed!”

The doors to the private atrium slowly opened, and Namshita was briefly shocked into silence. With a glance back at the loyal Kynikos, some of which had eyes on Namshita, they entered. The door slammed shut behind them. They slowly stepped further in, a pounding headache emerging to torture their senses. There, in the study hall; their creator, sitting on a chair, looking anything but divine.

“They’re corrupted,” Epsilon said as he gazed down at his creation. Namshita responded, “Do you wish for their destruction? We can kill them all.”

Epsilon shook his head, almost sadly. He ordered, “No, they will live. You will not harm them. This is a setback, but it does not need to be such a damaging one.”

Namshita raised their voice for a split second, “But they--” the Kynikos paused, lowering their head as they remembered their place and their tone returned to reverence, “they blaspheme. Would it not be more damaging to let them live?”

Epsilon slammed his fist on the table with startling intensity, saying back, “It is not your place to question me. I have decreed they live, so they will live. So long as they agree to the rules I will put in place, they may leave as well.”

Namshita continued to look at the floor as they asked, “What are those rules, my lord?”

The answer came quickly, “They must agree to never research the divine; they must agree to never share their findings except to those in the know. And they must cooperate with the academy when demanded.” Three rules, simply and quickly stated.

[hr]

The inspiration finally clicked for Biluda. Their old body was limiting; it was holding them back. They turned to the academy, half-crazed, as the image of a new body filled their mind. They skittered past the loyal Kynikos, who shouted in panic. Nobody could seem to get hands on Biluda, their hyperfocus permitting them to dodge and weave between people as they shouted, “I need cloth! I need one of those masks!”

The loyal group parted around Biluda, evidently fearful, as though the inspiration was contagious. Biluda grabbed spare cloth, and unhooked one of the decorative metal masks from the wall. They gathered small tidbits of other Kynikos’ experiments, and fled to a study nook. They could hear the guards just outside, boxing them in, but they didn’t care.

Biluda’s entire world was this body. A spare wooden core, dressed thickly in cloth hastily stitched into clothing. Small bits of experiments separated and beaded into necklaces and prayer beads. The work was furious and unending. They worked with no regard for anything but their new body. Once they were finished, they applied the mask atop the head. Biluda [url=https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/mtgsalvation_gamepedia/images/8/80/Vronos.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/640?cb=20140803115820]regarded their work,[/url] and with a trembling hand reached out to touch it.

They let their soul flow out. It felt natural. Their sight faltered and their hearing silenced. Excitement washed over them. The world became nothing but their body’s transfer. When Biluda once more opened their eyes and heard the world, it was in their new body, their old one crumpled on the floor. They could hear more shouting outside, the shuffling of feet. They poked their new masked eyes out of the study nook, to see their example had been followed; Kynikos were running about the library, grabbing various materials.

The loyal Kynikos were still shouting and dodging out of the way of the inspired Kynikos, but they did not fight back. Biluda could feel Namshita’s withering gaze on them from across the room. They walked over, asking, “You have not ordered us killed as I would expect of you. Why?”

Namshita’s voice dripped with hate as they answered, “Gather your blasphemers when they are lucid. I have spoken to our creator, and have an announcement to make.”

Biluda dipped their head in acknowledgement as they watched the chaos in the library. The sun had begun to rise once more when things finally quieted down. Empty bodies littered the library. Biluda shouted out to their flock, “Hear me, and listen! Namshita, that zealot, has spoken to the creator, and has an announcement! Listen!”

Their voice echoed across the library, and slowly all of the Kynikos gathered in a ragged semicircle around the two. Namshita glared at the gathering briefly before they began, “I have spoken to our holy creator! He has offered you redemption for your corruption; you may leave, unmolested, should you agree to his laws!”

Namshita continued, “First of those rules: You will not research the divine! It is not our place to investigate our betters, and all are to understand that! Second of the rules: You will not freely share your discoveries! Progress is dangerous, and unchecked, the mortals beyond our walls will destroy all there is! Third of the rules: You will not deny the academy its due! If the academy demands, you will obey!”

A murmur went up among the crowd. Kynikos on both sides looked unsure, and hostilities seemed to flare. Biluda’s voice cut through it all, “I accept these rules! I will take my leave from this place, and seek my destiny in the world!”

Biluda walked forwards, the crowd parting as he went. Step by step, they went down the central atrium and through the door into the sunlight. At first, only a few Kynikos followed them. It cascaded outwards, each Kynikos leaving with Biluda inspiring two more to leave as well. Within minutes, the only ones left in the academy were the loyal or the cowardly.

They spread out into the land beyond, Kynikos going in every direction. Some would float across the seas to new continents; others would walk the seabeds among the life within. Others would settle on the Academy island itself. The diaspora had begun.

[hider=summary]
We start with Biluda’s pov, a ranger Kynikos.
They settle an argument between guards and rangers, and go outside into the moonlight.
They get moonstruck and it freaks out Kynikos who aren’t moonstruck.
They have a lynch mob, but are convinced to wait for Epsilon to decide.
The next night, Biluda goes back out and gets inspired. Namshita at the same time goes into the private atrium to talk to Epsilon.
Epsilon lets them leave if they agree not to research the divine, to not freely share their tech, and to obey the academy.
Biluda, who has made a new body, agrees to these rules and leaves.
That inspires a bunch of other Kynikos to leave as well. They spread out and diaspora hard.
In practice, this means if you want a Kynikos somewhere, you can say they walked across the ocean floor or floated in the ocean currents or whatever to get where they are.
[/hider]

[hider=Kynikos Writeup]
Kynikos are magical, but are not related to the mana system. Instead, they use a unique system involving knowledge concocted by Epsilon especially for them. Their magic is sustained by new experiences and new knowledge. It can be infused into objects, and they can magically affect those objects in small degrees (for example, they can make a mannequin’s arm move even without joints), and in return if that object is destroyed, the Kynikos infused inside is killed.

To make a new Kynikos, two Kynikos can make a new body and infuse parts of their being into it in a scene I will not describe because it’s basically sex and that’s a no-no. The child Kynikos will, over the years, grow a natural obsession with the moon and will stare up at it. If they can’t stare at the moon, they will eventually go irrecoverably insane. After a few years of staring up at the moon nightly, they will be inspired to make their own body. If they cannot make a body, for example if they cannot get the materials they want, they will be driven irrecoverably insane.

Once the babby Kynikos has moved to a new body, they are considered an adult Kynikos. A Kyniko’s lifespan is dictated by the physical endurance of what they’re infused in, and they can extend this life indefinitely by swapping bodies as their old body wears out. However, they naturally grow world-weary over time, and in practice will stop swapping bodies around 200 to 300 years of age. Some Kynikos with exceptional wills can fight this world-weariness and live indefinitely (for example, heroes.)

When the Kynikos is infused in an object that isn’t necessarily solid (for example, clothing), they can form a fake body purely out of their magic that takes the form of an inky haze with two glowing eyes. This haze isn’t solid, and you can put your hand through it. However, when it’s under clothing, for example, a glove, that cloth is solid as though there is actually a body in it.

Kynikos don’t need to breathe, and can walk on the ocean floor just fine; the only issue is dealing with the increased degradation of their body that salt water causes.

All Kynikos are also subject to the three rules of exile, namely:
1. They cannot research the divine
2. They cannot freely share their research with other mortals
3. They must obey Academy agents.

These rules are not hardcoded into their being, and they can break them; don’t do this egregiously, however. Kynikos should fear retribution by the Academy, unless they’re completely and utterly suicidal. 
[/hider]