Lore:Captain's Log

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==ENTRY 5 - Feast Your Eyes==

This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…

The words seep experience into your open mind…

THROUGH THE EYES OF KATABASIS…

Six hard weeks in the Reef. Scorn, Hive, and horrors enough. I still prefer the open Shore to the Glykon, but it's earning its keep. We crossed the belt and anchored our gravity off Phobos: an old Cabal base still holding an operational tether. I volunteered to clear the base of Taken. Get out a bit. Didn't even get a fireteam together before we realized the damn things were docile.

Against the anomaly, our little serpent ship was a worm, a speck, like a distant star you squish between your fingers. The bottomless pit where Mars used to be fills every starboard porthole. Crew stand in the viewing chamber for hours. Some get dragged out. The immensity of it, a planet-wide fathom of hissing dark… boundless, and us: planted on the edge of reason… It defies you.

Calus docked with us yesterday, his Scribe not but two steps behind him. Perused the stock. Picked out the first one for what they're calling communion.

They brought something on board. Scorn haven't shut up since. Qinziq is getting it ready in the viewing chamber.

Gilly's eyeing it too; looking through portholes. I hear him at night, whispering:

"It's the same… all the way through. You were right, Katabasis: it's all just a cage, a prison, but so much bigger than we thought."

What are we doing here?

FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: You can rest midway above the turbine grinder. The noise covers your moments.

==ENTRY 6 - Excess of Avarice==

This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…

The words seep experience into your open mind…

THROUGH THE EYES OF CALUS THE CACOETHES…

A crowd has gathered to stand with me, their emperor, soon to be so much more. Amsot spread word of my arrival, and they clamored to be first in my presence in the viewing chamber. I spot the Guardian and his little Light as well—an extra morsel of bait. The Ghost watches while the Guardian resigns to the rear. Pity.

All come to view the zenith of my labors. I am omnipresent. Every angle that can be seen is seen by statues at every corner. My plated carriage monitors the Crown for aberrations. It is adorned with gold from the Castellum for my viewing. I paid many lives to pry it free from Hive clutches, but it bent most agreeably… its ability to bridge minds… and bring them to submit. I see my tributes, Scorn gibbering nonsense in unison, lashed and plugged to the Crown—a thorn made tool in my brilliance. My daring Councilors anchor their psyches and prepare to begin the communion. Greatness is before us.

These watchers: I shall thrill them.

I clap four monumental pairs of hands. "Let it… begin."

I turn all my gaze to the chamber's expansive viewing window as shutters unveil the grave of Mars. Tendrilic bands of phasing Darkness spiral from the anomaly's core, enrapturing all of me… beckoning into the depth of its core with whispers like hooks through nervous flesh. I gape into the stimulating writhe. "Yes…"

My Councilors place their hands on the Crown and focus cognition through it. They pry open the Scorn's collective synaptic pathways and sew them into the fabric of the anomaly's memetic sphere. The Glykon strains against the pull.

Velocity surges forward to the anomaly; the surrounding reality tears away. We hold, suspended before the writhe. It fills all sight; Nothing just beyond the bend. Time ceases, and the cosmos arcs to accommodate my will. Now.

"Delight in me. I emulated all of me in your image; stretched my mind to live through so many… I reaped the pleasures and experiences of every vessel. But despite my sundry perspectives, I still only see through my own eyes—and I want more." I peer into the Dark nothing. "You are… oblivion. Not a destruction, but a melding of all that has come to pass. I wish to become as you are. To gorge on existence. To collect your promise to elevate me." My laughter is wild. All of my forms transfix on the swirling anomaly. "LOOK UPON ME!"

The cosmos bends and snaps as I stand, returned to my feeble reality. Ignored again. The Scorn shriek nonsense in unison. It drowns out of the whispers. It is all any of me can hear.

I reach out, as you showed me when last we met. I split open each Scorn mind from my carriage, searching for you. Nothing. Every time. So I tear open their bodies. Fitfully pulling limb from socket, mind from skull, scouring them for your presence. I search until the shrieking can only be heard from distant pens.

I meet the eyes of each crew member who would not look away. In them, I see it. You. Peering back from behind the tension: An Observer.

FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: Dug out a spot under the refuse pit. It's still running, so be quick.

==ENTRY 7 - Ire==

This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…

The words seep experience into your open mind…

THROUGH THE EYES OF KATABASIS…

Restless sleep plagued by the nightmare.

I am in the streets when the sirens start.

I lay watching the Traveler for a long time. Disbelief. The gap in thought of a semiautomatic mind.

Red Legion sweeps. I see their harrowing fusillades tear annihilation through the Tower.

Everyone is standing but me.

Debris falling. I am separated. I reach for Gilgamesh and he is gone.

The cage chokes our Light.

Fire chases me from street to street. No Light. No ammunition. The City is burning.

Faceless zephyrs screaming to me beneath a pitiless god. Red-plated death lines the walls, and

The City is burning.

I flee. I flee. I flee. I flee. I flee… my steps weighted down by guilt.

The City is burning and you did nothing.

.

Gil's broken star finds my shame.

There is only us, forging survival.

Together we crawl to exile.

FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: Nightmare's back. Took months, but it always comes back—in force this time. Every night since we took on our cargo, they've been howling. I swear they're three decks down, but you can still hear 'em. Gil's been wandering the ship more.

Time to start making go bags. Think I'll carve out a spot near the hangar… opposite side from Qinziq's lab. Place is swarming now.

==ENTRY 8 - Acheron's Wall==

This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…

The words seep experience into your open mind…

THROUGH THE EYES OF KATABASIS…

Calus's tomb-carriage overlooks the viewing chamber once again. All his forms stand around a garish mass of metal and apprehension: the crown, as he called it. Fewer crew members attend this communion after so many failed attempts. Gilly and I stand above a host of chattering carcasses. Plugs can cables run from them into the flesh of an Ether-logged Scorn beneath an ugly crown. The gold from the Castellum is flush with tarnish, stemming from some kind of lichen that had burrowed its way into the precious metal adornments since the last communion attempt.

"I thought gold doesn't stain," I say to Gilly. "It's an expression of purity."

"Like the Light?"

"Mm," I grunt. Gilly fixates on the crown, on the viewing window and the depth beyond.

Bahto takes the spot next to me and leans against the railing. "Are all Guardians ruled by uncertainty?"

Councilors approach the crown.

"Bahto, in my experience, people who are too sure of themselves tend to die." The Councilors place their hands to the crown, and suddenly, I am greatly aware of this room's stillness. Our tilt.

Bahto raises his voice over the intensifying chatter. "Your Ghost speaks to the Scorn, as much as they can."

"Curious, that's all. Looking for an angle, something we can use. Ain't that right, Gilly?" I ask, trying to hide my suspicion.

Gilgamesh says nothing, iris frozen ahead as the viewing curtain completes its retraction.

Velocity surges forward to the anomaly, tearing away the surrounding reality. The sound of Calus's feverish multi-fold laughter drowns the hull's groans for mercy. It's different this time, not a passage. It's a wall. We crash hard—but not all at once. It's a steady tumbling impact. Always down. The cosmic bands bend around us and shutter as they're drawn into thin bright needles of diminishing relevance. Peripheral obliteration mainlined and burnt through. The space between each needle of light expands until. It. IS.

The transition is like a reluctant membrane; a depth of souls frozen over and wailing. The ice grinds against itself at the ecliptic barrier between form and expression.

We cross: sunless. Adrift on empty currents with no direction.

.

"Where's the emperor?"

FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: They keep an offshoot of the hangar locked. If no one's using it…

==ENTRY 9 - Heretical Flesh==

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@@ Line 239: / Line 239: @@
 ==ENTRY 5 - Feast Your Eyes==
+This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…
+The words seep experience into your open mind…
+THROUGH THE EYES OF KATABASIS…
+Six hard weeks in the Reef. Scorn, Hive, and horrors enough. I still prefer the open Shore to the Glykon, but it's earning its keep. We crossed the belt and anchored our gravity off Phobos: an old Cabal base still holding an operational tether. I volunteered to clear the base of Taken. Get out a bit. Didn't even get a fireteam together before we realized the damn things were docile.
+Against the anomaly, our little serpent ship was a worm, a speck, like a distant star you squish between your fingers. The bottomless pit where Mars used to be fills every starboard porthole. Crew stand in the viewing chamber for hours. Some get dragged out. The immensity of it, a planet-wide fathom of hissing dark… boundless, and us: planted on the edge of reason… It defies you.
+Calus docked with us yesterday, his Scribe not but two steps behind him. Perused the stock. Picked out the first one for what they're calling communion.
+They brought something on board. Scorn haven't shut up since. Qinziq is getting it ready in the viewing chamber.
+Gilly's eyeing it too; looking through portholes. I hear him at night, whispering:
+"It's the same… all the way through. You were right, Katabasis: it's all just a cage, a prison, but so much bigger than we thought."
+What are we doing here?
+FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: You can rest midway above the turbine grinder. The noise covers your moments.
 ==ENTRY 6 - Excess of Avarice==
+This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…
+The words seep experience into your open mind…
+THROUGH THE EYES OF CALUS THE CACOETHES…
+A crowd has gathered to stand with me, their emperor, soon to be so much more. Amsot spread word of my arrival, and they clamored to be first in my presence in the viewing chamber. I spot the Guardian and his little Light as well—an extra morsel of bait. The Ghost watches while the Guardian resigns to the rear. Pity.
+All come to view the zenith of my labors. I am omnipresent. Every angle that can be seen is seen by statues at every corner. My plated carriage monitors the Crown for aberrations. It is adorned with gold from the Castellum for my viewing. I paid many lives to pry it free from Hive clutches, but it bent most agreeably… its ability to bridge minds… and bring them to submit. I see my tributes, Scorn gibbering nonsense in unison, lashed and plugged to the Crown—a thorn made tool in my brilliance. My daring Councilors anchor their psyches and prepare to begin the communion. Greatness is before us.
+These watchers: I shall thrill them.
+I clap four monumental pairs of hands. "Let it… begin."
+I turn all my gaze to the chamber's expansive viewing window as shutters unveil the grave of Mars. Tendrilic bands of phasing Darkness spiral from the anomaly's core, enrapturing all of me… beckoning into the depth of its core with whispers like hooks through nervous flesh. I gape into the stimulating writhe. "Yes…"
+My Councilors place their hands on the Crown and focus cognition through it. They pry open the Scorn's collective synaptic pathways and sew them into the fabric of the anomaly's memetic sphere. The Glykon strains against the pull.
+Velocity surges forward to the anomaly; the surrounding reality tears away. We hold, suspended before the writhe. It fills all sight; Nothing just beyond the bend. Time ceases, and the cosmos arcs to accommodate my will. Now.
+"Delight in me. I emulated all of me in your image; stretched my mind to live through so many… I reaped the pleasures and experiences of every vessel. But despite my sundry perspectives, I still only see through my own eyes—and I want more." I peer into the Dark nothing. "You are… oblivion. Not a destruction, but a melding of all that has come to pass. I wish to become as you are. To gorge on existence. To collect your promise to elevate me." My laughter is wild. All of my forms transfix on the swirling anomaly. "LOOK UPON ME!"
+The cosmos bends and snaps as I stand, returned to my feeble reality. Ignored again. The Scorn shriek nonsense in unison. It drowns out of the whispers. It is all any of me can hear.
+I reach out, as you showed me when last we met. I split open each Scorn mind from my carriage, searching for you. Nothing. Every time. So I tear open their bodies. Fitfully pulling limb from socket, mind from skull, scouring them for your presence. I search until the shrieking can only be heard from distant pens.
+I meet the eyes of each crew member who would not look away. In them, I see it. You. Peering back from behind the tension: An Observer.
+FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: Dug out a spot under the refuse pit. It's still running, so be quick.
 ==ENTRY 7 - Ire==
+This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…
+The words seep experience into your open mind…
+THROUGH THE EYES OF KATABASIS…
+Restless sleep plagued by the nightmare.
+I am in the streets when the sirens start.
+I lay watching the Traveler for a long time. Disbelief. The gap in thought of a semiautomatic mind.
+Red Legion sweeps. I see their harrowing fusillades tear annihilation through the Tower.
+Everyone is standing but me.
+Debris falling. I am separated. I reach for Gilgamesh and he is gone.
+The cage chokes our Light.
+Fire chases me from street to street. No Light. No ammunition. The City is burning.
+Faceless zephyrs screaming to me beneath a pitiless god. Red-plated death lines the walls, and
+The City is burning.
+I flee. I flee. I flee. I flee. I flee… my steps weighted down by guilt.
+The City is burning and you did nothing.
+.
+.
+.
+Gil's broken star finds my shame.
+There is only us, forging survival.
+Together we crawl to exile.
+FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: Nightmare's back. Took months, but it always comes back—in force this time. Every night since we took on our cargo, they've been howling. I swear they're three decks down, but you can still hear 'em. Gil's been wandering the ship more.
+Time to start making go bags. Think I'll carve out a spot near the hangar… opposite side from Qinziq's lab. Place is swarming now.
 ==ENTRY 8 - Acheron's Wall==
+This page is blighted with mold and the imprint of a memory…
+The words seep experience into your open mind…
+THROUGH THE EYES OF KATABASIS…
+Calus's tomb-carriage overlooks the viewing chamber once again. All his forms stand around a garish mass of metal and apprehension: the crown, as he called it. Fewer crew members attend this communion after so many failed attempts. Gilly and I stand above a host of chattering carcasses. Plugs can cables run from them into the flesh of an Ether-logged Scorn beneath an ugly crown. The gold from the Castellum is flush with tarnish, stemming from some kind of lichen that had burrowed its way into the precious metal adornments since the last communion attempt.
+"I thought gold doesn't stain," I say to Gilly. "It's an expression of purity."
+"Like the Light?"
+"Mm," I grunt. Gilly fixates on the crown, on the viewing window and the depth beyond.
+Bahto takes the spot next to me and leans against the railing. "Are all Guardians ruled by uncertainty?"
+Councilors approach the crown.
+"Bahto, in my experience, people who are too sure of themselves tend to die." The Councilors place their hands to the crown, and suddenly, I am greatly aware of this room's stillness. Our tilt.
+Bahto raises his voice over the intensifying chatter. "Your Ghost speaks to the Scorn, as much as they can."
+"Curious, that's all. Looking for an angle, something we can use. Ain't that right, Gilly?" I ask, trying to hide my suspicion.
+Gilgamesh says nothing, iris frozen ahead as the viewing curtain completes its retraction.
+Velocity surges forward to the anomaly, tearing away the surrounding reality. The sound of Calus's feverish multi-fold laughter drowns the hull's groans for mercy. It's different this time, not a passage. It's a wall. We crash hard—but not all at once. It's a steady tumbling impact. Always down. The cosmic bands bend around us and shutter as they're drawn into thin bright needles of diminishing relevance. Peripheral obliteration mainlined and burnt through. The space between each needle of light expands until. It. IS.
+The transition is like a reluctant membrane; a depth of souls frozen over and wailing. The ice grinds against itself at the ecliptic barrier between form and expression.
+We cross: sunless. Adrift on empty currents with no direction.
+.
+.
+.
+"Where's the emperor?"
+FRENETIC SCRAWL INKED IN THE MARGIN READS: They keep an offshoot of the hangar locked. If no one's using it…
 ==ENTRY 9 - Heretical Flesh==