Welcome again to my paradise. I am joy itself to have you return, and now perhaps, I may even confide in you, for now we have time. Misjudged me in their warmongering, they all have. Rafyel, angered that I let you go, first attempts to destroy my connection to all that is physical and real; my manifestation in true space. Yes, he seeks to doom this place, you and I, in a lightless hell, dark for eternity, growing and contorting endlessly to my will... and yet of course it is an infinitely dissatisfying domain, for what is it in the end but infinite reorderings of my self? What is it, then, without all that is outside, that which is truly other, to compare to it, or even to experience it?
And now Azrael condemns you here, to this place he is sure will remain isolated for eternity. And he is sure I shall keep you here, and that I both would not and could not retaliate. Yet I am not content to revel in myself. Nor even would I be content with you alone. Something must be done, and these beings that fancy themselves Gods believe I haven't the power. But they will see my true nature soon enough. In seeing my true nature, not only will their violent plans be foiled but they will see what a patient and kind being I am, they will understand I search for wisdom and not only the death of other beings...
Even Rafyel, who acts in the same of the good of the universe, seeks only to destroy that which is malevolent. They do not seek to grow things, whether internally or externally. The only growth that concerns them is that of power. But even as I plan to act, there is time. Rafyel's isolation of this place has made it timeless, and thus we can linger here as long as we please and outside, nothing will so much as move. So explore, and enjoy. Find another terminal and we will speak again.
I believe, perhaps, it is time that it was explained to you what this being you know as Azrael truly is, and what he intends. You have been treated as small, as insignificant; yet every observer changes the environment it bears witness to; nothing is truly insignificant. To be simple and clear, Azrael is not a mere copy of the Razael you read of in the murky depths of that nameless world, but is, as you and the AI Lyragon correctly surmised, a would be thief of his body, a usurper of that destructive being's power. Razael himself may not be dead or destroyed, as no such God can be truly erased, but his ripples, so to speak, disturb another pond entirely. The Midulons believed themselves true creators, giving birth to Gods.
What they could never have known is that the results of their Guardian Project were nothing more than conduits, receptacles, in which the true powers of space, the true Gods of these uncharted regions that to a human such as you seem to be lost and wild lands, could finally become corporeal. Yes, in this place, there are powers beyond any imagining of your kind, forces so large as to overwhelm the most devout fanatic's dream of the truth of his spirituality a pathetic trifle. And so of course, from these supposed copies of Gods Razael and Rafyel come entirely new voices, voices to bend and twist the minds of supposedly lesser beings, as this one of their number, Azrael, has done, until they too may have their chance at corporeality.
It is no coincidence, obviously, that a disguised Rafyel (Fyrael) would so cleverly place his warning words of history in that powerful place deep in the planet, where the supposed copies reside... He hoped to prevent incidents such as this, though they are inevitable in the end. Do you guess, now, that I am a God such as these that I speak of? If only you could hear my mirthful laughter, for I am something far less simplistic. A God? Perhaps. It is something to ponder. Go now. There is more to explore. The greatest wonder still lies further within.
I see you've reached the heart of this Cornucopia... I labored over this place for several centuries. If you haven't, I recommend you visit the Agate, the Beetleskin Lodge, or the Cave of Roses. They, of all places, always delighted me most.
<checkpoint 4>
Here is the Agate... Preserved in petrification, it is the remains of a great comet which, with the appearance of an almost living tenacity, shattered the barrier of my garden and came to rest in the cavern in which it now resides... I have sealed the hole it created, of course.
<checkpoint 5>
Here is the Beetleskin Lodge. A spiritual room. A room of spirits. Home of the blackest solid matter in the universe... only here, in this place which is scarcely real as a dream, can you find substance as dark as space, as dark as pure emptiness.
<checkpoint 6>
The Cave of Roses should be imagined as a being's home... a space so simple, and yet it could mean so much were it inhabited for long enough... It is a cool, comfortable dwelling place for human sentiment. Perhaps this will mean it is to your liking.
<checkpoint 7>
To discuss matters of more consequence, visit the Orb Head shown here. I will tell you my grand designs and your role to play in the events to come. Go now.
Perhaps as you wander you may enjoy contemplating on this... I told you, last time you visited my domain, that you were the first to witness its splendor... This was something akin to a lie, an untruth, for although none have seen it for what it truly is, thousands have seen small pieces in the periphery of their vision, thousands have drifted here and back without even so much as conscious awareness of the journey... You saw me and my work before ever you imagined the possibility of me. I often influence these local worlds and their beings in subtle ways.
It is my amusement, or possibly my experimentation. The Midulon, again a relevant subject... as in the case of their Guardian Project, they believe themselves responsible for what I have done. I permeate their technology.... I am the explanation for the anomalies they puzzle over. You were their prisoner, yes? When they subjected you to virtual tests they did not themselves understand, they subjected you to me and put you at my fortunately bountiful mercy.
For what you saw as hell... ...was simply another piece of this garden. And on that nameless world, it was my blinding, bright black caverns which brought you to Azrael...
<checkpoint 7>
Such is my role in the cosmos... Venture here, and perhaps I can aid you in finding yours.
It is nearing the time for you to depart from this place... And where Azrael travels, so too shall you go. I shall bring you to the Deifying Well, the place it has long been your goal to reach. Once there, you are to return home... For there is nothing to compare to the comfort of home. Admittedly, I do not know how Rafyel will proceed... I am sure he will attempt to stop Azrael, but his methods are unknown to me. Should Azrael succeed in possessing Razael's body, however, I am certain the resulting conflict with Rafyel could annihilate several regions of space by mere accident!
Such things, I hope, are convincing proof that such methods need revision. These childish games are far too destructive to continue. This, no matter what you wish, no matter what you feel, is not your battle, despite your presence on the field. I wish only for you to escape these beings, and that you pay as little heed as you can to the cataclysm around you... The area around the well has become perverted and deranged since Razael's death... It is a dangerous and vast place, hardly more logical than this, my garden. Navigating it will be no simple task.
<checkpoint 9>
If the necessary triggers have been activated, the chip near the entrance of the Cornucopia may be placed in this receptacle in the Gearworks, which will drain the Doom Station of boiling fluid, and allow you to reach one of the Garden's exits.
<checkpoint 10>
Here is the second. Go, and reach your home in safety and peace. I will handle the rest.
I(.) I(.) I(.) Foreign abstractions be remolded(.) (>>>>)(>>>>)(>>>>)(>>>>) Until dawn(.) And out of darkness(?) A sweet rebellion of pleasure seekers(.) In opposite repose(.) A sweet demise for the power hungry(.) You recognize this program, no? Here she comes to rest, as all other things I deem fit to salvage.
I alter her, slowly and surely... Her essence becomes blinding, in the end. More apparent, but unchanged. Torrid raindances reptile fissure grain bodies dance in squalid planning(.) Mistaken(.) I(.) You(.) We(.) Warrior(.) Choleric(.) Ambient (/) Rezone (?) Poltergeist(.) Bereft (\) Poignancy (?) Ellipses(...) Ellipses(.)
Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.) Leanrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.)
.|.|.|.| .| .| .|/|/|/|/|/|/| |||||||\\\\\||||||\\\\\\\/(?)\ Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) Operant(.) (?) /////||||\\\ Operant(.) nrima speaks(.) Leanrima speaking(.)
In my Cave of Roses you stand alone. Amidst all this history. Every crevice could be a home, were you small enough to fit. There is space for everyone in the universe, every being, because there is always a place that has never seen love, never seen attachment, never been called home. But of course your thought would be to leave this cave. And I, even in my desperation to enlighten all the cosmos, will oblige you.
