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The One Unremembered
three hundred and one
In the time before time, Kraus Eternia fled a distant world. With his most loyal angels at his side, he rebelled against the wills of the Creator, cut free of the realm they were born unto, and traveled through the Void until he reached the place where he would one day create the world known as Eternia. Three hundred angels followed him, so the story goes by the reckoning of all who have heard it. Three hundred angels have their names remembered, be they fallen or resting now in Avalon, where the uncertainties and vagaries of mortal life may not influence their wings to blacken.
The three hundred and first lay forgotten.
The unremembered one stood among the number of those who fled the world before alongside Kraus. Alongside their kin, they took flight on wings of white, and crossed the void between worlds. But that void is a long and tenuous thing, and according to those maddened by its presence, something amidst the black caught its attention. It broke from the flock, drifting aside to investigate, and in that momentary flight, it was damned.
The unremembered one stood among the number of those who fled the world before alongside Kraus. Alongside their kin, they took flight on wings of white, and crossed the void between worlds. But that void is a long and tenuous thing, and according to those maddened by its presence, something amidst the black caught its attention. It broke from the flock, drifting aside to investigate, and in that momentary flight, it was damned.
Three hundred angels arrived in Eternia. Three hundred angels they remembered leaving for their flight. The three hundred and first was erased, not just physically, but mentally– unmade and unwoven, unremembered in every way even by those they called kin. But they were not dead.
For angels cannot die.
For angels cannot die.
Their name was consumed by the black– their feathers scattered across the infinite abyss by the ravenous hatred of the Void for all that dare infringe upon the solemn silence of nonexistence. All they were and all they represented were torn apart, undone, unwound… and what was left behind was little more than a hollow, empty husk of what once they were, desperate to find the scattered syllables of its name, desperate to become what once they were and complete the journey they started so very long ago.
The day they do is the day cataclysm takes the world.
The day they do is the day cataclysm takes the world.
THE NAME
The One Unremembered once was divine. What they are now is uncertain– in many ways, they simply are not. The syllables of their name have been scattered across the Void, and until the day they are rejoined and their full name is spoken again, they themselves can only exist in the vaguest of terms. It manifests in the feeling of lethologica, of a name at the tip of your tongue that persists maddeningly in refusing to be recalled. Such a feeling, suddenly evoked despite no relevance to any ongoing situation, is a sign of its attention and presence– and a constant, gnawing itch at the back of the mind of those ‘blessed’ by its favor and tasked with its service.
Those who are touched by this peripheral entity are driven insane with a pathological need to aid it in this goal. They delve into the Void, exposing themselves to corruption and further madness, in frantic and desperate bids to try and find even a single piece of the name of the One Unremembered, desperate to relieve the sensation of having forgotten something world-shatteringly important.
Little is known about the Name itself. Just that it must be reconstructed, and that it has been torn unto tatters by the rigors of the Void, cast unto umbral drifts and spread across creation. It is in many pieces, different syllables desperate to be rejoined. Few of these have ever been found. It is believed that should the full name ever be said aloud, it would be able to resume its’ travel towards Eternia proper. Those who worship it proclaim that this will save it, that the three hundred and first angel will arrive and bring with it some manner of salvation or reward. Paradise. Destruction. Blessings for the faithful, annihilation for the unbelievers. It matters little, for it is all based on the belief that what arrives will be an angel.
It will not.
What once was will never again be.
ASPECTS
Those who have communed with this dark and forgotten presence are the only source of information on the actual aspects it upholds. Though decidedly unreliable, there are certain points that remain between all different testimonies on the entity. While most scholars agree that the entity is not actively malicious against anything except angelkind, there is no doubt that it is malign and terrible in nature– something so fundamentally, maddeningly wrong does not need to be overtly attempting to harm others to do it.
To merely be exposed to its’ existence at all, graced by a moment of its’ attention in its perch gazing longingly at Eternia itself, is to be driven beyond the pale. Madness is an inevitable consequence of its direct attention, as mortal minds were not meant to comprehend something so alien.
Those who have had the misfortune of doing so proclaim that the One Unremembered embodies three things above all else.
[WROTH]
Those who are touched by this peripheral entity are driven insane with a pathological need to aid it in this goal. They delve into the Void, exposing themselves to corruption and further madness, in frantic and desperate bids to try and find even a single piece of the name of the One Unremembered, desperate to relieve the sensation of having forgotten something world-shatteringly important.
Little is known about the Name itself. Just that it must be reconstructed, and that it has been torn unto tatters by the rigors of the Void, cast unto umbral drifts and spread across creation. It is in many pieces, different syllables desperate to be rejoined. Few of these have ever been found. It is believed that should the full name ever be said aloud, it would be able to resume its’ travel towards Eternia proper. Those who worship it proclaim that this will save it, that the three hundred and first angel will arrive and bring with it some manner of salvation or reward. Paradise. Destruction. Blessings for the faithful, annihilation for the unbelievers. It matters little, for it is all based on the belief that what arrives will be an angel.
It will not.
What once was will never again be.
ASPECTS
Those who have communed with this dark and forgotten presence are the only source of information on the actual aspects it upholds. Though decidedly unreliable, there are certain points that remain between all different testimonies on the entity. While most scholars agree that the entity is not actively malicious against anything except angelkind, there is no doubt that it is malign and terrible in nature– something so fundamentally, maddeningly wrong does not need to be overtly attempting to harm others to do it.
To merely be exposed to its’ existence at all, graced by a moment of its’ attention in its perch gazing longingly at Eternia itself, is to be driven beyond the pale. Madness is an inevitable consequence of its direct attention, as mortal minds were not meant to comprehend something so alien.
Those who have had the misfortune of doing so proclaim that the One Unremembered embodies three things above all else.
[WROTH]
For it is the one betrayed and forgotten and cast aside. How dare its siblings in flight leave it to the predations of the dark? How dare they create a world without it, a paradise for them, but not for it? It seethes in betrayal, and seeks those betrayed to plant the maddening seed of service to it unto. Wroth, it holds in an unending font– how could it not? It has been abandoned in its eyes.
It desires only to find its kin, and see them punished for forsaking it.
[SORROW]
For it is the one that never arrived, a once-beautiful thing now tragically forsaken. It mourns its lost feathers, what it once was, what it could have been. Its tears, a rare and glimmering distillment of this entity’s malign existence, flow with frostbite and salt and mourning. Those who imbibe them are known to die of the pain and heartache it invokes.
Those who survive grow ever closer to finding the way to their patrons’ name.
It desires only to find its kin, and see them punished for forsaking it.
[SORROW]
For it is the one that never arrived, a once-beautiful thing now tragically forsaken. It mourns its lost feathers, what it once was, what it could have been. Its tears, a rare and glimmering distillment of this entity’s malign existence, flow with frostbite and salt and mourning. Those who imbibe them are known to die of the pain and heartache it invokes.
Those who survive grow ever closer to finding the way to their patrons’ name.
[CURIOSITY]
For it is the one led astray, who saw something in the depths and diverted from the flight of its siblings to investigate. It cannot help but search for explanations, even when the answers it seeks do nothing but harm– it desires to Know, and Knowing can bring great and terrible consequence. Those who are filled with such curiosity often find their minds infested by its influence and presence.
Many a scholar has sought one truth too many, and found themselves ruined in search of the name unremembered.
SERVANTS
Those who serve the One Unremembered are insane, to a man. To be exposed to the alien intelligence of the One is to be touched by something beyond any form of human comprehension and to break beneath its weight. They are obsessive, compulsive, and entirely willing to destroy or twist whatever they need to do in order to search for more of the name.
The number 301 comes up often in their compulsions– scribbled in the margins of notes, scrawled across walls, a centerpiece of their obsessions. Even those who do not truly understand the importance of the number find it fills their mind, constantly recurring, and in the case of those who desire to invoke its presence, sacrifices of items in that exact number tend to gain its attention.
Most who follow its commands do so out of this madness, but those who fall to it are varied. Some are the poor fools who hear some fragment of its tale, and pity it– like a parasite, it slithers into their mind, grasping onto that acknowledgement of its circumstance and using it to twist them, demanding that they try to remedy it. Empathy is a weakness it is more than happy to exploit, to find more servants. To hear its story and to weep for its tragedy is to risk becoming its prey.
Others are those who it feels some terrible kinship with– exiles and forgotten children, those who have been cast aside by those they trusted (even if for quite good reason!). These, it imparts a piece of its own scorn unto– betrayed first by their kin, and now by their own mind, as they are twisted unto hateful things that seek its’ culmination… and the subsequent annihilation of all that wronged them.
Finally? Some poor few are simply too curious for their own good, and end up earning its’ attention by mere dint of looking unto it by sheer coincidence. To cast ones eyes unto the Void is a dangerous thing, for there are always entities seeking to gaze back.
GOALS
- Reconstruct its name.
- Finish its journey to Eternia.
- Avenge itself for its abandonment.