Day 61, Library
Sep. 19th, 2019 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aboveallthingsA selection of books about the Outsider...
Can The Outsider Speak? An analysis of his visitations - A dusty monograph on encounters with the Outsider.
Part 1
It is a rare enough tale, but one which varies only in the tone and enthusiasm of its narrators. Select few are, through dreams or contact with shrines, transported to the Void and converse with the Outsider himself. Some, it is said, walk away from these encounters with his favor.
Naturally, it is difficult to untangle reliable accounts from the ramblings of desperate seekers of the Outsider's attention. Nevertheless, an analysis of these events is warranted.
The Abbey of the Everyman warns that the Outsider walks among them, but to them he is merely the stranger who tempts you to infidelity or the pickpocket who robs you of trinkets. Only the barest understanding of the truth exists in their foolish Litany. We of the Eye know where the Outsider truly lies.
However, if these stories are to be believed, then we must question the extent of his power in the Void. Does he choose these dialogues consciously? What is the nature of these conversations, if indeed they are intelligible? What is his physical nature in these moments?
These are the questions I attempt to answer in the chapters that follow.
Part 2
Perhaps the most well-documented, yet also the most dubious, of the Outsider’s visitations are his encounters with the men and women of the Abbey of the Everyman. Aside from vague descriptions of temptations which the Overseers and Oracular Sisters both attribute to the Outsider’s presence, there are cases of Outsider visitations in this category which merit our attention.
The first is the bloviating account of the confrontation between the Outsider and High Overseer Francis Perry. It is maintained that the Outsider assumed the form of a large serpent and attacked the High Overseer in his chambers.
I must stress the falsity of this story. The Outsider’s physical form exists bodily in the Void, and does not, as we know, shapeshift like a trickster from some fanciful tale.
However, turning to the confessions of an excommunicated Oracular Sister by the name of Romana Kyme, we find a plausible tale. She recounted a dream in which the Outsider appeared to her and, understanding the circumstances of her wrongful conviction of apostasy, offered her a 'gift'. This was rejected. The next morning she was branded and turned out to the streets.
Part 3
The most common dialogic interactions recorded with the Outsider are conjurations occurring at one of the many shrines to him constructed across the Isles. They are considered, like all things of interest, heretical by the Abbey, and are forbidden from public view. These simple altars, often made of wood, wire, and other materials found close at hand, are adorned with candles, dried herbs, coin, and pieces of carved whalebone known to possess a blessing from the Void. It is not known if any item beyond the latter makes a tangible difference to the shrine’s power. Nevertheless, it is through these ritualized sites that contact with the Outsider is thought possible.
However, many such attempts are failures. Long are the lists of potential incantations, sacrificial animals, and bodily fluids which are said to compel the Outsider to appear; none are successful. But yet there remain scattered, firsthand accounts of people—bearing on their flesh what is known colloquially as the ‘Outsider’s Mark’ which we recognize as the symbol engraved in whalebone runes—seemingly communing with these altars and, when they wake, are able to recount specifics of the Outsider’s voice and appearance which do not vary substantially in their description.
Part 4
We must consider, then, the possibility of the Outsider’s own agency in these encounters. Does the Void itself direct his attentions, or does the boy the Envisioned submerged into the ether of that place so long ago still retain a portion of his memory, his conscience, and indeed his desires? If we must entertain this thought, then we must also radically restructure our approach to the Void and its lonely denizen.
For surely it is alarming to consider. If the Outsider speaks, why does he not speak to us? He has never conversed with a member of our society, let alone bestowed any favor. Yet we in all the Isles know the truth of his creation, and are his wardens in the Void. So why, then, does he so often appear to the ignorant and miserable, the wronged and the hurt?
What knowledge does he seek? What does he hope to gain by traversing the dreams of these people, or by granting them such abilities as to allow them to change the circumstances of their lives?
I am afraid, as always, that my research has left us with more questions than answers.
The Essence of Eternal, by Polina Roszakova - An imposing treatise on the Void.
It is impossible to study the Outsider without also examining that desolate place which so exalts him. But it is a grave error to mistake one for the other.
True, the Void rests upon his shoulders. We know that he, like the Eye of the Dead God which grants us our knowledge, is both a focal point and a catalyst for its power. We know that he alone, bound there, obscures the true nature of that place from those who teem below in Karnaca and all of the isles beyond.
But the Void exists eternal, while he is but a figure the Envisioned placed there, in their wisdom. The Outsider is a static point, a truth upon which we build our foundations. But the Void is shifting, dynamic, a vast, ever-changing place which grasps at our world through every crack and fissure it can, from the wants of the living to the remains of the dead. We who cross the border see this hold on our very bodies. We who live upon the threshold know its nature.
The best word we have for it, perhaps, is 'hunger'.
The Seven Strictures - A thin, cheaply printed book with a trident symbol and "Abbey of the Everyman" on the cover.
1. Wandering Gaze
"Restrict the Wandering Gaze that looks hither and yonder for some flashing thing that easily catches a man's fancy in one moment, but brings calamity in the next. For the eyes are never tired of seeing, nor are they quick to spot illusion. A man whose gaze is corrupted is like a warped mirror that has traded beauty for ugliness and ugliness for beauty. Instead, fix your eyes to what is edifying and to what is pure, and then you will be able to recognize the profane monuments of the Outsider."
—Overseer Chant.
2. Lying Tongue
"Restrict the lying tongue that is like a spark in a man's mouth. It is such a little thing, yet from one spark an entire city may burn to the ground. The father of a lie will suffer a punishment compounded by each person relayed it. Better to live a life of silence than unleash a stream of untruth. The echoes of lies come back as the voice of the Outsider."
—Overseer Chant.
3. Restless Hands
"Restrict the Restless Hands, which quickly become the workmates of the Outsider. Unfettered by honest labor, they rush to sordid gain, vain pursuits, and deeds of violence. Of what value are the hands that steal and kill and destroy? Instead, put your hands to the plow, the fork, and the spade. For even the lowliest labor that is rigorous squeezes the muscles as a sponge, rinsing impurities from the mind and body."
—Overseer Chant.
4. Roving Feet
"Restrict roving feet that love to trespass. They pay no heed to the boundary stones of other men's fields. They wander into foreign lands, only to return with their soles blackened by iniquity. Where have you strayed that destruction now comes behind you? Would you walk across burning coals or broken glass? Then why do you prowl into the homes of the honest, or into the dens of hidden things, for the result is the same. You will fall into the Void! Instead, rest your feet on a firm foundation so that when the winds of the Outsider shriek against you, you will stand firm and not be overthrown."
—Overseer Chant.
5. Rampant Hunger
"Restrict the Rampant Hunger or the intemperate will rise up among you like a virulent swarm, devouring everything wherever they go, even filth. For what goes into your body, poisons you, and if you eat filth then filth is what you will vomit up. Surely the glutton will sell away birthright, family, and friends for a morsel of meat."
—Overseer Chant.
6. Wanton Flesh
"Restrict the Wanton Flesh. Truly, there is no quicker means by which a life can be upheaved and sifted than by the depredations of uncontrolled desire. What avail is the concourse of a prostitute? The attention of a loose companion? Nothing. And what of the fruit of such unions? Only sorrow is born, only misery is multiplied; within these things, the Outsider dwells."
—Overseer Chant.
7. Errant Mind
"Restrict an errant mind before it becomes fractious and divided. Can two enemies occupy the same body? No, for the first will direct it one way, and the second another, until they stumble into a ditch and its neck is broken. Likewise, two contrary thoughts cannot long abide in a man's mind, or he will become weak-willed and subject to any heresy."
—Overseer Chant.
The Lonely Rat Boy - A children's tale about the rat plague and meeting the Outsider.
Part 1
It was the year the rat plague sank its bloody teeth into Dunwall and tore out all its mercies. The year the people who live submerged within the shadows of the city's great edifices suffered most.
This lonely child knew no family but a small white rat. Whatever pieces of half-rotted food he found, he shared with this creature. He knew no name, only the vile curses thrown at him by the thugs and mudlarks who tormented him daily. Their fists raised, their knives on his skin. How they grinned, baring all their blackened teeth.
The boy, bruised and shaken, cradled his little friend to his chest as they sat together in some dark alley for a moment's breath. Soon the city watch found him.
"Move on!" the watchman said. The boy did not know where to go. He pleaded with the man, who answered with a truncheon across the youngster's cheek.
"Move on!" he said again with a scowl. The boy turned to run.
"He'll be weeping soon", he heard the watchman spit.
The boy's heart stuttered with fear. The rat watched him plaintively with red eyes.
"No one will help us", the boy said to his only friend.
Part 2
He had walked for hours, limping unsteadily, crossing the city as he avoided those who prowled the streets at night. He had found himself in an unknown part of Dunwall. His little rat nestled against his neck, one spot of warmth in the cold.
A gentle sound beckoned him down an alleyway. He hesitated, then followed. The walls were slick with rainwater, the sound glancing off its stones like an echoing throat. At the end of the path rose a twisted construction of wood and wire. A piece of carved and polished bone hummed within.
The boy heard a voice like the voice of the waves. Cold and timeless. A shadow rose up, a radiant darkness that defied all sight. A young man who wandered lonely places. The Outsider himself. When the flesh of the boy's left hand itched and smouldered, he did not look away. When the vision vanished, the Outsider's mark remained.
That night the boy climbed to the highest of Dunwall's jagged roofs and looked over the city. The towers and gables undulated under his eyes, like a grand and shifting ocean. He saw all the lives that teemed beneath, and was not afraid.
Part 3
He had never learned love, only fear. Love was a phantom; a press of a gentle hand against his cheek that had long since lost its warmth. But his wounds were opened afresh each day. He had nothing but the white rat who stayed even when the world had abandoned him.
The ones who had hurt him were within his sight. The boy curled his hands into fists; his nails bit into his palms. The Outsider's mark seared his skin as he raised its magic.
Rats roiled up from the black smoke, writhing and squealing in their conjured frenzy. Hundreds of eyes, dozens of noses, and innumerable rows of teeth- it was as if they had clawed up from the darkness of the boy's own heart.
What was dull now erupted into color. Blood spilled out, and soon blue and purple viscera, yellow fat. The hard white of their bones as the vermin bit down into their victims. Screams slipped away to gurgled pleading, then silence.
His tormentors were strewn across the dirty cobbles. Two rats fought over a piece of bloody flesh. The boy reached out to stroke one- the creature turned and sank its grinning jaws into his hand.
Part 4
Blood wept from the wound in his palm. Soon, blood welled in his eyes and rolled down his face in long, staining tears. His white rat lay curled in his marked hand, protected by the boy's strange magic.
He staggered through the streets of Dunwall. The world recoiled at the sight, fearful of the plague that gripped his body. There was only one place left for him.
Soon he found the shrine that had brought him these powers. It lay inert, even as the boy fell to his knees before it. He had hoped to see the Outsider again, but the young man did not appear. The boy looked up from the gutter and felt the Void reach out for him.
The ones who hurt him were dead. He smiled for this–for the only one who had taken pity on him in his short years. He laid down on the cold stones before the shrine.
"Thank you." A pained whisper to the night air. He had lived his final days unafraid.
Life fled the boy, and his smile slackened into a dull stare. His little white rat slipped from his hand and lapped the blood from his cheek.
Spirit of the Deep, Siren of the Dreams - A novel about coming of age in Dunwall's whaling industry, and the narrator's relationship with a mysterious black-eyed young man.
I walked for hours along the coast, leaving Dunwall behind me until the lament of the waves drowned all other feeling. I wept, knowing you would not come to me, my love.
You rule my dreams, where I behold with senses I do not possess in waking life the dark splendor of your home in the deep. There the ocean rests on your back like a sleeping child on his father's shoulders.
In these sleepless nights of despair, you appear to me not as the mighty leviathan, but as a young man, with eyes as black as the Void.
The Heart of the Abyss - A cheap pamphlet subtitled "A Tale of Sensual Mystery and the Supernatural, in 3 Acts" and evidently not safe for work. Stamped with "BANNED BY ORDER OF THE ABBEY" across the cover.
THE STRANGER (smirking insidiously)
My dear Corvid. I’ve been watching you for a long time. When you fight, when you sleep. When you… bathe. And now you’ve lost it all.
CORVID (shocked and confused)
Who are you? What is this cold and shadowy place? Have I penetrated the Stranger’s Void?
THE STRANGER (with a flourish)
There are forces in this world, forces some men call magic. Now you can bend them to your will. I am the Stranger, and this is my mark.
CORVID (studying the back of his hand)
Ah—It burns! What is this supernatural gift?
THE STRANGER (moving closer)
Oh, but I have many more gifts to give. What will you do with them, I wonder?
CORVID (admiring the young man)
Oh! What pale skin, what piercing gaze! You look more youthful than the legends say.
THE STRANGER (caressing his cheek)
Let me show you which legends are true.
Can The Outsider Speak? An analysis of his visitations - A dusty monograph on encounters with the Outsider.
Part 1
It is a rare enough tale, but one which varies only in the tone and enthusiasm of its narrators. Select few are, through dreams or contact with shrines, transported to the Void and converse with the Outsider himself. Some, it is said, walk away from these encounters with his favor.
Naturally, it is difficult to untangle reliable accounts from the ramblings of desperate seekers of the Outsider's attention. Nevertheless, an analysis of these events is warranted.
The Abbey of the Everyman warns that the Outsider walks among them, but to them he is merely the stranger who tempts you to infidelity or the pickpocket who robs you of trinkets. Only the barest understanding of the truth exists in their foolish Litany. We of the Eye know where the Outsider truly lies.
However, if these stories are to be believed, then we must question the extent of his power in the Void. Does he choose these dialogues consciously? What is the nature of these conversations, if indeed they are intelligible? What is his physical nature in these moments?
These are the questions I attempt to answer in the chapters that follow.
Part 2
Perhaps the most well-documented, yet also the most dubious, of the Outsider’s visitations are his encounters with the men and women of the Abbey of the Everyman. Aside from vague descriptions of temptations which the Overseers and Oracular Sisters both attribute to the Outsider’s presence, there are cases of Outsider visitations in this category which merit our attention.
The first is the bloviating account of the confrontation between the Outsider and High Overseer Francis Perry. It is maintained that the Outsider assumed the form of a large serpent and attacked the High Overseer in his chambers.
I must stress the falsity of this story. The Outsider’s physical form exists bodily in the Void, and does not, as we know, shapeshift like a trickster from some fanciful tale.
However, turning to the confessions of an excommunicated Oracular Sister by the name of Romana Kyme, we find a plausible tale. She recounted a dream in which the Outsider appeared to her and, understanding the circumstances of her wrongful conviction of apostasy, offered her a 'gift'. This was rejected. The next morning she was branded and turned out to the streets.
Part 3
The most common dialogic interactions recorded with the Outsider are conjurations occurring at one of the many shrines to him constructed across the Isles. They are considered, like all things of interest, heretical by the Abbey, and are forbidden from public view. These simple altars, often made of wood, wire, and other materials found close at hand, are adorned with candles, dried herbs, coin, and pieces of carved whalebone known to possess a blessing from the Void. It is not known if any item beyond the latter makes a tangible difference to the shrine’s power. Nevertheless, it is through these ritualized sites that contact with the Outsider is thought possible.
However, many such attempts are failures. Long are the lists of potential incantations, sacrificial animals, and bodily fluids which are said to compel the Outsider to appear; none are successful. But yet there remain scattered, firsthand accounts of people—bearing on their flesh what is known colloquially as the ‘Outsider’s Mark’ which we recognize as the symbol engraved in whalebone runes—seemingly communing with these altars and, when they wake, are able to recount specifics of the Outsider’s voice and appearance which do not vary substantially in their description.
Part 4
We must consider, then, the possibility of the Outsider’s own agency in these encounters. Does the Void itself direct his attentions, or does the boy the Envisioned submerged into the ether of that place so long ago still retain a portion of his memory, his conscience, and indeed his desires? If we must entertain this thought, then we must also radically restructure our approach to the Void and its lonely denizen.
For surely it is alarming to consider. If the Outsider speaks, why does he not speak to us? He has never conversed with a member of our society, let alone bestowed any favor. Yet we in all the Isles know the truth of his creation, and are his wardens in the Void. So why, then, does he so often appear to the ignorant and miserable, the wronged and the hurt?
What knowledge does he seek? What does he hope to gain by traversing the dreams of these people, or by granting them such abilities as to allow them to change the circumstances of their lives?
I am afraid, as always, that my research has left us with more questions than answers.
The Essence of Eternal, by Polina Roszakova - An imposing treatise on the Void.
It is impossible to study the Outsider without also examining that desolate place which so exalts him. But it is a grave error to mistake one for the other.
True, the Void rests upon his shoulders. We know that he, like the Eye of the Dead God which grants us our knowledge, is both a focal point and a catalyst for its power. We know that he alone, bound there, obscures the true nature of that place from those who teem below in Karnaca and all of the isles beyond.
But the Void exists eternal, while he is but a figure the Envisioned placed there, in their wisdom. The Outsider is a static point, a truth upon which we build our foundations. But the Void is shifting, dynamic, a vast, ever-changing place which grasps at our world through every crack and fissure it can, from the wants of the living to the remains of the dead. We who cross the border see this hold on our very bodies. We who live upon the threshold know its nature.
The best word we have for it, perhaps, is 'hunger'.
The Seven Strictures - A thin, cheaply printed book with a trident symbol and "Abbey of the Everyman" on the cover.
1. Wandering Gaze
"Restrict the Wandering Gaze that looks hither and yonder for some flashing thing that easily catches a man's fancy in one moment, but brings calamity in the next. For the eyes are never tired of seeing, nor are they quick to spot illusion. A man whose gaze is corrupted is like a warped mirror that has traded beauty for ugliness and ugliness for beauty. Instead, fix your eyes to what is edifying and to what is pure, and then you will be able to recognize the profane monuments of the Outsider."
—Overseer Chant.
2. Lying Tongue
"Restrict the lying tongue that is like a spark in a man's mouth. It is such a little thing, yet from one spark an entire city may burn to the ground. The father of a lie will suffer a punishment compounded by each person relayed it. Better to live a life of silence than unleash a stream of untruth. The echoes of lies come back as the voice of the Outsider."
—Overseer Chant.
3. Restless Hands
"Restrict the Restless Hands, which quickly become the workmates of the Outsider. Unfettered by honest labor, they rush to sordid gain, vain pursuits, and deeds of violence. Of what value are the hands that steal and kill and destroy? Instead, put your hands to the plow, the fork, and the spade. For even the lowliest labor that is rigorous squeezes the muscles as a sponge, rinsing impurities from the mind and body."
—Overseer Chant.
4. Roving Feet
"Restrict roving feet that love to trespass. They pay no heed to the boundary stones of other men's fields. They wander into foreign lands, only to return with their soles blackened by iniquity. Where have you strayed that destruction now comes behind you? Would you walk across burning coals or broken glass? Then why do you prowl into the homes of the honest, or into the dens of hidden things, for the result is the same. You will fall into the Void! Instead, rest your feet on a firm foundation so that when the winds of the Outsider shriek against you, you will stand firm and not be overthrown."
—Overseer Chant.
5. Rampant Hunger
"Restrict the Rampant Hunger or the intemperate will rise up among you like a virulent swarm, devouring everything wherever they go, even filth. For what goes into your body, poisons you, and if you eat filth then filth is what you will vomit up. Surely the glutton will sell away birthright, family, and friends for a morsel of meat."
—Overseer Chant.
6. Wanton Flesh
"Restrict the Wanton Flesh. Truly, there is no quicker means by which a life can be upheaved and sifted than by the depredations of uncontrolled desire. What avail is the concourse of a prostitute? The attention of a loose companion? Nothing. And what of the fruit of such unions? Only sorrow is born, only misery is multiplied; within these things, the Outsider dwells."
—Overseer Chant.
7. Errant Mind
"Restrict an errant mind before it becomes fractious and divided. Can two enemies occupy the same body? No, for the first will direct it one way, and the second another, until they stumble into a ditch and its neck is broken. Likewise, two contrary thoughts cannot long abide in a man's mind, or he will become weak-willed and subject to any heresy."
—Overseer Chant.
The Lonely Rat Boy - A children's tale about the rat plague and meeting the Outsider.
Part 1
It was the year the rat plague sank its bloody teeth into Dunwall and tore out all its mercies. The year the people who live submerged within the shadows of the city's great edifices suffered most.
This lonely child knew no family but a small white rat. Whatever pieces of half-rotted food he found, he shared with this creature. He knew no name, only the vile curses thrown at him by the thugs and mudlarks who tormented him daily. Their fists raised, their knives on his skin. How they grinned, baring all their blackened teeth.
The boy, bruised and shaken, cradled his little friend to his chest as they sat together in some dark alley for a moment's breath. Soon the city watch found him.
"Move on!" the watchman said. The boy did not know where to go. He pleaded with the man, who answered with a truncheon across the youngster's cheek.
"Move on!" he said again with a scowl. The boy turned to run.
"He'll be weeping soon", he heard the watchman spit.
The boy's heart stuttered with fear. The rat watched him plaintively with red eyes.
"No one will help us", the boy said to his only friend.
Part 2
He had walked for hours, limping unsteadily, crossing the city as he avoided those who prowled the streets at night. He had found himself in an unknown part of Dunwall. His little rat nestled against his neck, one spot of warmth in the cold.
A gentle sound beckoned him down an alleyway. He hesitated, then followed. The walls were slick with rainwater, the sound glancing off its stones like an echoing throat. At the end of the path rose a twisted construction of wood and wire. A piece of carved and polished bone hummed within.
The boy heard a voice like the voice of the waves. Cold and timeless. A shadow rose up, a radiant darkness that defied all sight. A young man who wandered lonely places. The Outsider himself. When the flesh of the boy's left hand itched and smouldered, he did not look away. When the vision vanished, the Outsider's mark remained.
That night the boy climbed to the highest of Dunwall's jagged roofs and looked over the city. The towers and gables undulated under his eyes, like a grand and shifting ocean. He saw all the lives that teemed beneath, and was not afraid.
Part 3
He had never learned love, only fear. Love was a phantom; a press of a gentle hand against his cheek that had long since lost its warmth. But his wounds were opened afresh each day. He had nothing but the white rat who stayed even when the world had abandoned him.
The ones who had hurt him were within his sight. The boy curled his hands into fists; his nails bit into his palms. The Outsider's mark seared his skin as he raised its magic.
Rats roiled up from the black smoke, writhing and squealing in their conjured frenzy. Hundreds of eyes, dozens of noses, and innumerable rows of teeth- it was as if they had clawed up from the darkness of the boy's own heart.
What was dull now erupted into color. Blood spilled out, and soon blue and purple viscera, yellow fat. The hard white of their bones as the vermin bit down into their victims. Screams slipped away to gurgled pleading, then silence.
His tormentors were strewn across the dirty cobbles. Two rats fought over a piece of bloody flesh. The boy reached out to stroke one- the creature turned and sank its grinning jaws into his hand.
Part 4
Blood wept from the wound in his palm. Soon, blood welled in his eyes and rolled down his face in long, staining tears. His white rat lay curled in his marked hand, protected by the boy's strange magic.
He staggered through the streets of Dunwall. The world recoiled at the sight, fearful of the plague that gripped his body. There was only one place left for him.
Soon he found the shrine that had brought him these powers. It lay inert, even as the boy fell to his knees before it. He had hoped to see the Outsider again, but the young man did not appear. The boy looked up from the gutter and felt the Void reach out for him.
The ones who hurt him were dead. He smiled for this–for the only one who had taken pity on him in his short years. He laid down on the cold stones before the shrine.
"Thank you." A pained whisper to the night air. He had lived his final days unafraid.
Life fled the boy, and his smile slackened into a dull stare. His little white rat slipped from his hand and lapped the blood from his cheek.
Spirit of the Deep, Siren of the Dreams - A novel about coming of age in Dunwall's whaling industry, and the narrator's relationship with a mysterious black-eyed young man.
I walked for hours along the coast, leaving Dunwall behind me until the lament of the waves drowned all other feeling. I wept, knowing you would not come to me, my love.
You rule my dreams, where I behold with senses I do not possess in waking life the dark splendor of your home in the deep. There the ocean rests on your back like a sleeping child on his father's shoulders.
In these sleepless nights of despair, you appear to me not as the mighty leviathan, but as a young man, with eyes as black as the Void.
The Heart of the Abyss - A cheap pamphlet subtitled "A Tale of Sensual Mystery and the Supernatural, in 3 Acts" and evidently not safe for work. Stamped with "BANNED BY ORDER OF THE ABBEY" across the cover.
THE STRANGER (smirking insidiously)
My dear Corvid. I’ve been watching you for a long time. When you fight, when you sleep. When you… bathe. And now you’ve lost it all.
CORVID (shocked and confused)
Who are you? What is this cold and shadowy place? Have I penetrated the Stranger’s Void?
THE STRANGER (with a flourish)
There are forces in this world, forces some men call magic. Now you can bend them to your will. I am the Stranger, and this is my mark.
CORVID (studying the back of his hand)
Ah—It burns! What is this supernatural gift?
THE STRANGER (moving closer)
Oh, but I have many more gifts to give. What will you do with them, I wonder?
CORVID (admiring the young man)
Oh! What pale skin, what piercing gaze! You look more youthful than the legends say.
THE STRANGER (caressing his cheek)
Let me show you which legends are true.
