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THE MAW OF GREED
authored and scribed by Hadrian
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"Come to us," the charming little faeling said to me. Her coterie nodded in
agreement and gestured for me to join them. Gathered in a weald specked with
radiantly lush trees and playful bushes, the group of richly dressed faelings
and elfen seemed mentally focused on the cauldron they encircled. Sunlight
pervaded the weald and everything was strangely, irresistibly cheerful, even the
pitch-black cauldron-polished to an impeccable shine-which rhythmically emitted
fumes and energies that chilled my heart despite the warmth of Sun on my skin.
But the pooka fae at the faeling's side was so darling, and when it called to
me, I came posthaste.

"We need one more to complete this most sacred of rituals," she continued
mellifluously, "and we would rejoice if you joined us."

Be still, my heart! Her smile entrapped my eyes and I could see nothing else
for the longest time. She radiated youth and beauty and her curvaceous, alluring
form responded to my most basic desires. What kind of ritual were they
performing? Who even cares? They are all so young and beautiful, their faces
alight with honest reverence, it must be a noble veneration of a Spirit-perhaps
burning Sun himself who so impetuously fills the world with care and joy!

They gestured towards me again and I joined their circle of power, clasping
hands with two elfen men who flashed me encouraging smiles before turning their
eyes to the cauldron. Only now did I notice that this perfect weald was
strangely quiet. Absent was the chirping of birds, the foraging of squirrels,
the hopping of rabbits, all invaluable instruments which played key parts in the
forestal symphony. Moreover, my mind was completely still: the voices of others
hadn't entered it since I laid my eyes upon the ritualists. The deathly silence
would normally be unsettling, but there was nothing to worry about here. I
sensed it.

"Repeat after me with the others, please," she said with a twitch of her lips.

I saw her chant under her breath and words of praise reached my ears, riding on
a sudden breeze. As she praised, so I praised, and the circle of power followed,
the words of many harmonizing as the cauldron bubbled forcefully and emitted a
cloud of fumes which obscured radiant Sun completely. Lasting but a fraction of
a second, someone's bellow suddenly pierced the silence. It was hard to
understand and seemed to be asking something about the fumes, but it was over
soon and my mind deemed it unworthy of further memory.

A biting chill entered the weald. As I blinked, the circle of power dissolved
and the elfen men who clasped hands with me were gone, in their place fuzzy
forms shrouded by the fumes (but taller... so much taller than me). It also
seemed we were no longer standing in the weald, rather in a chilling cave, and I
began to wonder whether I truly felt Sun's warmth on me earlier. I began to
wonder whether I'd been doing anything for the past few hours consciously. One
of the forms muttered a quick succession of hisses and a field of highest magic
rose around us, pressing on the air within and giving me claustrophobic shivers.
Across from me, a voice flowed through the fumes:

"The time has come, brothers and sisters."

I recognized it - it was the faeling woman, but she no longer spoke with the
grace and charm of a faeling. Her words were hisses and gasps, and I wondered if
she was all right. Why did I not speak to her of my discomfort in these cold
fumes? The pooka fae on my shoulder seemed to think it was a bad idea...

"Through our devotion and unison of belief, across the Basin we have gathered
at last. Bearers of the garments of Night and Moon - familiars of the Touched
Earth and Pure Waters - weavers of the songs of fallen Elders alike, all gather
here to bow before this wonder, this Edifice of Power so long hidden from sight
and sense. It has fed all of us unspeakable energies, stored for centuries, and
we are now more powerful-"

The fumes turned a crimson shade as the vicious voice of Fain stormed the
aethers, "What is this cloud? It smells familiar."

"The Traitor recognizes the scent," she continued, smiling audibly. "Etched in
this Edifice is its history and, when we touched it, it touched us."

A celestial chorus sounded as a backdrop for the Divine voice of Eventru, "It
invades Our senses much like you do, Fain. What is this cloud, Basin? Enlighten
Us."

"Years of preparation led to this moment of glory. Years - centuries, for it is
the birth of this Edifice that begot the events that followed. It is Her will
that pulled us all here, and you will agree... this was our destiny."

Careening, raspy trumpets and the force of a stampede trailed behind the
pounding voice of Charune, "For once, Eventru's words are agreeable. It reeks of
taint, yet taint it is not. It smells of deep-seated malice."

"And you will agree that it was destiny that brought you here today." She was
speaking to me! I could feel it.

"Unwittingly, you have donated your life to a cause too great for you to even
understand!" Donated my life?

"And as the last element is with us now, brothers and sisters, the ritual nears
completion."

Something grasped my brain, squeezed for a second and my mind was ready to
obey. I walked towards the cauldron, mindless, only aware of the fact that the
closer I came, the less it looked like a cauldron...

The fumes dimmed as the silky voice of Nocht swept across the Basin
caressingly, "I feel a sudden need for the Second Circle."

The terror in me grew and grew to horrifying proportions. I weeped in fear
inside. I was like a child being led to the gallows, not knowing what it is but
sensing its grim finality. But this was so much more frightening... This
cauldron-which, as I neared, seemed much more like a nightmarish, monstrous
mouth, with swollen lips and countless teeth along the inner rim-seemed to be
chiming comforting words into my mind. Not only did they fail at comforting me,
they struck an even greater fear into me as a mental image invaded my mind, that
of a mother lulling her child to sleep, then choking it as it lay there
helpless.

Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw the glints of nekai, great axes and
swords...

"We have given much to this Edifice, yet I think none of us have regrets, for
it will reciprocate."

Someone insignificant then shouted, "Why are all these ascendants and demigods
gathered in one place?"

"The immanidivinus escaped us and we were powerless in our quest. Yet She
thought it all through, and the circle of life is complete. Her Edifice gave us
the power needed to acquire the power required to release Her."

Despair in Her voice, the Silver Goddess's weep shook the aethers, "The fumes
are hurting My daughter! She is crying. Stop this, now!"

"She now hungers for one more meal. The accursed race which oppressed Her now
marks Her resurrection - how great the irony of life! Filthy kepheran bug..."

Only now did I notice that I bore the illusion of being a kephera on me,
covering my feline features completely. Was it accidental, that on this very day
I decided to play-act being a member of that intriguing race that rules the
Undervault? Or was it, as the woman said, destiny? It is too late to know.

"... enter the Maw of Greed."

The trees around me nearly screamed as they saw my last moments. Jakari wrapped
tightly around my limbs, chopped off one by one by swords and axes, my body was
unceremoniously thrown into the eldritch cauldron which fumed forcefully at the
taste of my flesh. All hope gone, I began to pray for salvation, thinking this
was just some strange dream and it would all be over soon...

Suddenly, a tongue-like mass of black liquid shot from the cauldron and wrapped
itself around my soul, numbing me in every way imaginable. My prayers stopped as
the tongue jerked me into the cauldron, where I saw
despairfeardeathdeathDEATHhungergreedhungerGREEDjoyjoyjubilantJOY... and more
than anything, I saw a rebirth.

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At the very bottom of the Amberle Ocean, buried under masses of dirt, an
enchanted diary lies even today. It is a record of Gorob d'Varsha's most
intimate thought experiments, and the last entry is the basic idea that would
later evolve into the first Edifice of Power. It was his mind that formed the
downfall of the Soulless, and it was his mind that was honoured when he was
given the title of Teacher. Edifices of Power sprung up across the world as
people found hope and salvation in the Vernal Gods who, indeed, put up a great
fight against the tyranny of the Soulless.

It is this tyranny, however, that is often misunderstood, for while the
Soulless are extremely chaotic beings bent on consumption and destruction, they
are not without minds. The Elders and Vernals knew this well, for they suffered
many a devious and clever trap the Soulless had set, and it was clear that
premeditation is not strange to them. Less clear, but observable nonetheless,
was the nature of the consumption the Soulless performed-they did not destroy,
as true destruction was impossible without Magnora: they absorbed and made
things their own. While new additions to their unspeakable masses were easily
overlooked, not all were, apparently, outright ignored.

It was thus, and by chance, that one of the Soulless came across the knowledge
on how to construct an Edifice of Power. They all had absorbed many mortals and
just as many Gods, and all somehow overlooked their collective knowledge on the
Edifices, or perhaps deemed it unworthy of attention; all save one. It could
conceivably be because that one utilized those it absorbed more than all the
other Soulless, taking on their forms to play mind tricks and lure the
still-living to its maws, but regardless of how or why, the fact stands that one
premeditated a plot larger than any of the other Soulless had ever even
attempted.

One day, long ago, while the Vernal Gods were busy combatting an onslaught of
Soulless in another world, having already sealed such great ones as the Silent
Death and the great Leviathan, the Illithoid Prison underneath the Basin of Life
was visited by a preternatural presence. Hours passed in meditation and
divination as illithoid high priests tried to identify the presence, and finally
it was found to be the emanation of a Soulless God. More hours passed peacefully
as the presence was examined, probed and had its nature pondered, before it
released its echoing voice into the Prison, unprovoked and seemingly on a whim:

"MY CHILDREN."

The Prison instantly became tumultuous with a mixture of cheers, gasps, cries
of joy and noisy movement as all recognized the vibrations of their progenitor's
mind. It was hard to believe, but they deemed it true, for they were aware that
only one half of her had splintered, the one that Keph had sliced off and
sealed, and the other, for all they knew, was quite probably still alive and
well. It took hours more for the uproar to calm, after which the high priests
organized a gathering where the presence was strongest.

The assumed mind of Illith spoke to them of the terrible battles she and the
others were leading against the Vernal uprising, of how many have already been
sealed by any sort of witchcraft the Vernal breed could use, and of how, if
things continued like this, she would meet a grim end as well. It was certainly
discouraging for the race to hear of their mother's troubles, but she was quick
to calm them. Almost too quick.

"THEY USE CONSTRUCTS TO ASCEND TO GODHOOD. THEY USE TRICKERY. BUT OUR TRICKS
ARE MANY AND VARIED, AND MUCH MORE SO THAN THEIRS."

She continued to tell her progeny of how, if they built a similar type of
construct and she imbued it with a significant amount of her essence, then
perhaps, if she was defeated, something could be done about it. She elaborated
that excoroperditio essence could mold the receiver according to its needs, and
had the distinct property of feeding on itself, in time growing to extreme
proportions - if, in the future, immortal receptacles drew power from an Edifice
of hers, they would bear her essence, and in them her essence would, with time,
grow, and mold their very beings to facilitate its further growth. They could
then conceivably channel all their power, their essence, into the Edifice,
followed by an appropriate mortal sacrifice, thus triggering the power surge by
which mortals would rise to godhood - only this time, the amplified power with
which they pierce the Veils would instead be used to shatter the seal they'd put
on her. She expressed her uncertainty on whether it would work, due to a large
amount of crucial variables, but it was the best backup she could think of. This
all was too much for most of the gathering to understand, so she summarized her
gambit in a few simple vibrations:

"IF I SHOULD FALL, I COULD BE RESTORED. CONSTRUCT THE EDIFICE OF POWER PER MY
INSTRUCTIONS AND HIDE IT FROM SIGHT AND SENSE, FOR IT MUST SURVIVE IF I DON'T.
MY ESSENCE IN IT WILL DO ALL THE WORK THENCEFORTH, AS IT CAN REACH THROUGH THE
LAND TO CALL THOSE ABLE TO RECEIVE IT."

The gathering absorbed what the presence told them with reverent hope, and
workers were urged to begin construction immediately. As the gathering
dispersed, all to their usual business, only a select few high priests stayed
with the presence. They were somewhat bothered by its single-mindedness and the
fact that it showed almost no care for what was supposed to be its progeny,
merely passing along instructions and giving reports. However, clouded as the
minds of children are in matters concerning their parents, they dismissed the
doubts and ascribed them to the urgency of the matter and the current bad state
of the Soulless. It was then that a sudden thought dawned on one of them, and he
asked without hesitation: "What will your Edifice be called?"

And it answered with a chuckle that rang through the Prison:

"AS MY MAWS CONSUME, SO TOO SHALL MY EDIFICE: AND AS I AM INSATIABLE, SO IT
SHALL BE. NAME IT ACCORDINGLY."

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The Gods trembled, for the fumes had reached Avechna's Peak. Maylea, Lisaera,
Raezon, Fain, Charune, Terentia and Isune gathered there and joined forces to
try to stop the malignant fumes-while they didn't want to admit it just yet,
they sensed that something terrible would happen if they reached the Fulcruces.
Visible to the naked eye of the entire Basin, dangerously orange streaks of
force suddenly swept through the fumes when the Maw of Greed consumed me and a
cackle, unrivaled in malice, rage and hate, cleft the mountains in twain,
stopped the rivers in their tracks and pulled the fumes all back into the Maw in
one giant, sweeping gesture. For weeks after the event, silence ruled. Everyone
remained on guard even though all seemed comfortingly quiet, as if an unseen
force had taken care of the problem. The source of the fumes couldn't be
identified: Elostian noted, however, that they seeped into the Basin from
locations which normally lead into the Undervault.

Then, four weeks later, a furrikin in the Blasted Land felt the ground churn.
Fearing she was about to become beating fodder for a gravedigger, she ran and
hurriedly climbed a hillock protruding from Avechna's Teeth. She watched, face
frozen in shock, the exodus of the gravediggers as, one by one, they left the
safety of their pits, clawing through dirt, and ran westwards towards the
tainted city. Trailing behind them were all the other beastly residents of the
dry wasteland, big and small, and soon enough a cacophony of cries erupted from
Magnagora.

Within moments of this, the flock of rocs of Oleanvir Valley crashed to the
ground, writhing and twitching as their wings convulsed, suddenly unable to ride
the air currents anymore. Half of the taurians of Verasavir Valley went into a
frenzy, stampeded into Toronada River and got swept to the Inner Sea, drowning
miserably. The other half fled to the Serenwilde rapidly, seeking refuge in its
treetops.

Coming down upon the Basin in a maelstrom of multilayered whispers and tones,
the voice of Elostian echoed, "Get to higher ground. There is a presence at work
beneath."

Interjecting, an unholy screech rent the aethers, like an incredibly large mass
trying to squeeze into a space far too small for it. The screech continued for
hours, completely shattering the willpower of many as it somehow transcended
planes, ignored all barriers and sneered at deafness. Indeed, it seemed as if
the very essence of the world felt its corrosive effect, as all ground suddenly
became more pliable, all air indecipherably foul-scented, and all water dully
gray and still. It gradually toned down and calmed, and it was the Bloom of
Serenity, Her voice travelling as if on withering flowers, who voiced what all
the Elders were sensing to be true:

"Basin... Crazen is awake."

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