Chris' Journal

Test of the Concilium – 11:45 P.M.
Entry 1

Overman quietly sits at a desk at his room in the school – his hand moving fluidly to record observations of his future cabal members. It is not all that long before an ephemeral form slinks into the room to rest upon the desk – gazing curiously at the book. Overman runs a man over the feline form only half attentive as he flips back through the pages.

“It troubles me, the welfare of this cabal. The Consilium looks to us for weakness even as our instructors trust us to show the awakened populous of Pittsburg the benefit and appropriateness of creating new cabals again. All the while I do not even trust the sanity of all our members” Overman’s hand stops and he looks down for the first time and sees his familiar. “Thank you for keeping an eye on them Promethius, you know how I worry.” There are unspoken volumes conveyed in that statement, Promethius arches his back and faces his master silently – his eyes radiating a troubled curiosity. “I need you to keep an eye on Noctys for awhile. I fear he is a threat – when we are a cabal, well, their actions will reflect upon us all. Our actions are watched by the whole of the Consilium. Our words and deeds will determine if the balance of power , indeed peace, returns to this area.”

Hard lines form at the corners of Overman’s mouth as his face becomes firm and decisive. “Some of them are so shortsighted – so naive. We are the apotheosis of humanity, power AND responsibility are our duty and our mandate. We can not let our idealism cloud our minds from the final outcome of our decisions. I can not let childish notions endanger the peace of the Consilium or the safety of enlightened society. Though the others may dislike it, as they dislike anything I do, the authorities had to be informed of the murderer and be enabled to take action against the threat – Noctys be damned.”

Rising from the seat, Overman turns to the door and watches his one loyal ally slink into the wall towards the Acanthus’ room. Slipping the journal into his coat – the door encloses the empty room in darkness.

Test of the Concilium – Earlier that Night
Entry 1 Cont.

The sky has become dark and silent as the car pulls into the school’s lot. The women in the back had long ago silenced their chatter as the school grew closer. Noctys is difficult to read other than the almost tangible feeling of wrath washing off him for my person – no doubt he is confused and angry about the outcome of the murderer Virginia.

“Well this is the place Silver Wings, Slyth. Just remember what I told you and everything should be fine, Prometheus be with you both the whole time and my attention will never be far at hand. Do not volunteer anything you are not asked,” looking towards Noctys I can see the concern and worry that we will betray Virginia – how right he is “remember the events that transpired with the prisoner, and the prisoner herself, are not to be brought up unless it is necessary to answer an instructors direct question. Everything will be fine.” Leading the ladies into the School is as smooth as silk, though Noctys’ eyes never leave me – they almost seem to bleed distrust. I’ve felt those eye so often of late – the burden of those eyes seems right somehow and puts me at ease for what must come now.

Heavy oak doors swing open and Morpheus stands – expectant of the visitors. His deep eyes seem to know everything – perhaps he has touched our minds already. No matter – I warned Noctys of that and he can not hold me responsible. “Greetings Morpheus, we have accomplished the mission of the Consilium,” a brief gesture to the staff in Noctys’ hand, “and I have brought two mages that require the same guiding hand you have given us. They were found on site, but that is their story to tell. I only have to say that they have not been indoctrinated into the Mysteries.” It is not long before Morpheus leads away the others. All that remains now is my duty – to see that our society is protected and the murder of our brethren is answered. I can hear the heavy clang of the forge even here in the hall – distant and soft as it is.

Heat pours from the furnace – smothering the last of the winter chill that still clung to my clothes. Hephaestus stands there with a ruddy glow cast over him in stark relief to the shining silver of his spine. “Master,” closing the doors behind me ,“I’ve come to report a matter that concerns the Silver Ladder. In the course of our mission we came upon someone who is neither mage nor sleeper – she has killed at the very least two of our kind and made attempts on more.” The massive over-muscled form turns to face my voice, it’s sound seemingly so small and weak now, my Master seeming to loom over me even from such a great distance. “I wished to bring her that the Order might try her for her crimes and answer the threat of the organization she is part of, to stymie the efforts of this group in hunting us. I was prevented – but even know my familiar keeps an eye on her and the location of her keeping.” Hephaestus tenses visibly at the mention of mage deaths and scowls when I mention being held back from bringing in the criminal.

Taking a last look at the incomplete artifact still simmering in the celestial fire, a gesture, and the flames die before he waves me to follow.

First Night at the Sanctum – 11:45 P.M.
Entry 2

Overman sits at his desk, a chill winter breeze finding its way through the cracked window, a few pages of notes rustle in their bindings. The presence of something unseen settles onto the edge of the desk and paws impotently at the wind blown paper. Overman gives the thin sheet of fabric that separates his abode from the common areas a look of concern, with a moments concentration and a cursory glance past the fabric, his heavy hand begins to stoke seemingly empty air.

“It is good you came back when you did Prometheus, I was beginning to think you had found yourself another’s dinner out there.” A satisfactory sound issues out in “Uremehir” to one who can hear it, “Indeed Overman, that curious worry is precisely the dinner I found.”

“I wanted to bounce some ideas off of you, so I hope you kept room for dessert. The others, Rameses in particular, have been very troubled with my intentions. I’m sure you have detected as much. Yet, even I am unsure of my long term actions at this point in time and it has begun to eat at me. These past weeks I’ve picked at Hephaestus’ mind – learning all I could about our past, about what I used to be, and about Hieraconis. I respect what the Silver Ladder intends – I wish to contribute and be more than a gear going about the motions in the machine. Hephaestus told me about the thoughts that often plague a potential mage before awakening, about his thoughts on sleep walkers. We talked at length about human spirituality – about the Stag, the Lion, and the Sage. In the end it is our emotions that drive us and perhaps the false emotions of the Lie that keep us from moving past this “Fallen World”. That is why I called you back now, that’s why I believe of all the spirits, you are the one who’s soul bonded to my own. I’ve seen you manipulate emotions, when you made that dog curious about the inside of the bakery to display to me your abilities – to feed my curiosity. The ripples of emotion that were sure to come from that spectacle – the exclamations of surprise by the patrons and staff. Tell me of your kind Prometheus, I believe you are the key to fixing our world."

Prometheus arches his back and a sharp twinkle shines deep in his eyes, “It is your intent then to aid the Thoughts of Feeling?”

“Yes, I seek to aid,” Overman smiles as he finds the term, “the Court of Emotion. Tell me of them! Tell me everything!”

A War Brewing – Academy 9:30 P.M.
Entry 3

“I sometimes sit and wonder about how I came to be what I am today. I have ever been conflicted and lost in the world. I have so much hate and distrust of it all – always eager for the opportunity to give my love and faith to something but the whole time knowing that to give it to the undeserving will tarnish those feelings and make me unworthy of the ones I seek. I used to be called a dreamer and idealist, so long ago in the past. Now, now I’m seen as a jaded cynic, but it is only the pain of old wounds, A thin venire that covers the strong idealism that simply will not die. My old self remains and I seek to hid it from myself under elaborate masks, to push that disappointment and sadness on another, a fabricated me.”

“There is a saying,

“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”

I detest the tribe – the very concept of normality and conformity a burning bile upon my tongue. I wish to direct that tribe not lose myself to it. I wish to lead them to greener pastures and sweeter waters, as I ride atop that growing wave and exalt in what I have created. That is my self love, the love for myself under the mask, the ideal me that could achieve great things with great passions."

“If man were not driven to gain power and control then we would have no society at all. Because of this need some men chaff at the collar of station placed against their neck and seek a new system where they shape the world. If we all knew our place and did not struggle against it then we could work towards a greater goal with all of our focused might. Freedom, freedom opposes efficiency in our flawed world. It trickles down to every level – even those with the control are trapped expending their energies on keeping there potential successors blind, dumb and clawing at each others. My father once spoke of a system he would implement if he were at the helm, Social Meritocracy. A system where one pushes to attain as much as they want and stop when their hunger is sated. Men do not only feed their desires but must also struggle with their own apathy and complacency. What does the fat cow care of the eagle soaring above – they are in different worlds and both are contented. In such a system only a few would reach for the stars. An idealist dream that is far too easily controlled, after all, in who’s eyes is merit quantified? It would be they who truly hold the power and thus control such a world.”

“Humanity is an ingenious design of endless birth like the small beings that make up its body – so many seeking to re-imagine the entire world and shape it around them. I seek to do the same now – to rend this world as we know it and rebuild it to fit my vision. The Sleeper and the Awakened still exist in the same reality, a reality a man has created. It is only that the Awakened can see past the one behind the curtain and see a curtain behind him. To see the blazing lines of our greater reality plucked and pulled be the powerful will of a few.”

“In the sleeping world it is done by telling the masses what to believe, our world is no different, is it Prometheus?”

Chris' Journal

Chaos Theory Nehebkau