Master Rias, Vessel of Books Yet Unwritten
Ten Thousand Gates > An Impromptu Picnic in a Starlit, Ancient Arena

I must stress that I am in no way an agent of the Hunger of this doleful Void, the Hunger for Knowledge. Any misinterpretation on your part is entirely my fault. I wholeheartedly apologise, Bethen, Ulvath, Leli; I would not wish to be inconvenienced by your sharpnesses, nor saddened by your demise.

I have this tale third-hand, you must understand, for all books of Void and Hunger have long been written and rotted to dust; no more will come to pass, as the Voids and their creators are far from the center of all things and far from the attentions of the builders of gates. This is well, for Hungers such as the one beyond the great door would consume all if permitted.

The Hunger for Knowledge, as the others, was bound and chained by the Mindful Imperatives in long ages past. Since that fateful time, it has probed and worked at the chinks in its bondage, each a way to cast cunning lines far across Creation. It has buried its tendrils in dreams, in ancient tomes, in ancestral tales, in the very roots of sorcery, leaving hints of keys to gates forgotten and ways unknown. All promise much, but all lead here - to extinction.

So it is; the stars here turn and turn, and when they are right, forth comes the Hunger to see what its ten thousand lures have caught. We have time yet; tell me of your keys, and then we will go from here to leave nothing but dust and sand - and no little rightful spite - behind.

[ Posted by Reason on October 6, 2005 ]