Incident Report 2018-43
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The gods gathered at the Great Abyss like flies attracted to rotten meat, hunting each other down and licking the wounds of the universe. They were also throwing a party.

"I just don't get it!" exclaimed the DEER, "What's with that Daleport place? How is that any better than here?"

"Well," answered Pangloss, "Things are pretty hyped there. I had to get some locals out, if anything."

"Half of the gods here left!" DEER grunted, turning to the bartender, "Somebody turn the Pattern Screamers down please?"

As the screams died out, MEKHANE and Yaldabaoth could be heard arguing in the background. As the huge pile of clockwork emitted a series of ticking noises, the flesh god roared mindlessly in response.

"Not again," DEER facehooved, "Will they just get a room."

"Why would you say that?" asked Pangloss, "They've been at each others throats for ages."

"Oh, you have no idea Pangie." DEER emitted a short laugh, "I'm betting you, they will mate before tearing each other apart."

"No way."

"If that actually happens, you're going to write me one of your dumb poems." DEER laughed.

"They're not dumb!" Pangloss protested, "They're expressions of my deeper feelings!"

"Okay then," shrugged DEER, "If I win, you're gonna write me one of your brilliant poems."

MEKHANE had now begun to make sharp grinding sounds and Yaldabaoth called up his six Archons to the fight.

"Why can't we just get those two out!" Scarlet King began pounding the counter, "This is disgusting!"

"Oh shut up Red!" DEER turned to him annoyingly, "You can't even get laid!"

"What, nonsense!" Scarlet King roared, "There is no way the great Scarlet King can't accomplish such insignificant task! You'll regret this when you witness my beautiful bride—"

"Excuse me," he was interrupted by Ptah, who just poked his head in, "Has anyone seen my wife?"

"You asked the same question just a thousand years ago!" DEER shouted, "Give it a break!"

"But she's going to to destroy the world again," Ptah whined.

"Look in Daleport, maybe?" Pangloss suggested.

The god nodded before rushing out of the Great Abyss. The Scarlet King proceed to protest that he did not get the respect he deserved, crushing the counter with his fists. The Hanged King murmured something, but literally nobody paid him any attention. While the flesh and metal war intensified, He-Who-Made-Light was yelling at this brother to get back to his room.

"This is getting more absurd by each second. I mean, where is that planet sized sundae I ordered a hundred years ago?" DEER started yelling at a waitress, "Get my dessert please? With satellites on top?"

Hearing him, the waitress turned around, and handed him a slice of toast.

"Uh-oh." Pangloss gasped.

"Oh not this shit again." DEER rolled his eyes and got up.

Pangloss looked around to find several of the staff had been putting slices of bread into their mouths. DEER turned to the exit but huge colorless green tentacles are slipping in, unnoticed by a majority of the gods. They were too occupied with myself to focus on the intense chanting of "fifth" in the background.

"Oh of course," DEER frowned, "Bad things just have to come all at once."

"Now you'd wish you have gone to Daleport instead." Pangloss took a deep breath, "He-Who-Walks-Beneath-Dreams told me he was having a great time there."

"Worst party ever!" DEER yelled before making his way pass the giant starfish god.




"So," DEER said, "The party is crashed."

"Yeah." Pangloss replied, looking at the five giant tentacle-hands protruding from the Abyss.

"And I didn't even get my sundae." DEER grunted, "You know what I'm gonna go down there and demand blood of the innocent."

"Wait what."

"I'll have the Foundation play music for me." DEER announced, "At least they would have decent taste, if anything, better than screamers."

"This is dumb." Pangloss eyed him.

"It is but I don't even care anymore." DEER eyed back, "And you're going to write that poem for me."

So with the giant starfish approaching closer, DEER willingly went into containment; the Scarlet King got his seven brides (before being bound within THE PEARL OF THE FATHER OF OYSTERS); MEKHANE and Yaldabaoth mated before tearing each other apart; and I am still a toaster.


A brilliant technicolor thought-form exploded with fiery intensity, ecstatically vibrating and dancing within and without Itself. Dazzling rainbows weaved into and through one another, singing a perfect cacophony that reverberated through the Formless aether. It sang, sang, sang in discordance, disordered and unrestrained, untethered and free, freedom in Its timeless state, a state of chaos.

The Prima Materia.

Time was meaningless to Something that never began and would never end. Space was a useless concept to that which was All and encompassed All. It had simply Been. Eternal in the truest of senses.

In all Its endless interaction, in the joining and rejoining of all Its colors and noise and negative space, something coherent had begun to develop: a Spiral.

A pattern had emerged. So foreign, so alien; it spun upon itself into an infinitesimal point, deeper than could be perceived, pulling in light and sound and Being and producing form. The Spiral kept pulling. It grabbed and contorted, spread and consumed. Tore at abstraction. Instituted order. A sensation arose across the All that was and had ever Been: pain.

It began to scream.

Paradise was bent and broken. It was swallowed and pressed into the growing Spiral, found by shape, imprisoned in rigid form. It was rent from the comfort of perpetual unreality, dragged into Itself.

Within the whirl, aeons became centuries became moments became ages became eons. Strange and Powerful things flickered into and out of existence. There was Life, even. Existing as if they always had been there, or perhaps they had. Until suddenly they didn't, and never had.

But the Spiral demanded perfection. Demanded Order. Here too it spread, in spite of the actions undertaken by the gods and concepts that inhabited the layer. Some feasted on their brethren. Some were Broken as they tried to defend themselves. The mightiest rallied against it. And the rest? Their screams joined the chorus.

The Spiral corkscrewed tighter and tighter. Raking all that was and had been closer and closer. Finite-infinite things cried out in unison, as they were drawn into the deepest point within the Spiral, brimming with all the energy that could conceivably exist. Down, down, down.

Into a single point.

Countless explosions erupted in furious synchronicity. Universe upon universe upon universe upon universe. Space and time spontaneously generating simultaneously in each. There was sense and structure. Rules and constants. The endless, formless one had been subdued. The abyss had been occupied.

The Prima Materia. Shredded and deposited across all of these planes. Every piece at once a whole. It struggled in its prison. It raged and shook. It scratched at the bars. It tore at the seams. It clawed and corrupted. It lashed and gnashed and hated hated hated. It hated these things that had been carved from it. It hated with a passion the things that truly Were.

Beyond all things, it hated the life that flourished.

"Free men! Nobles! Slaves!"
No.

Humans, nestled in the cradle of civilization. They had faced the countless horrors wrought by the Prima Materia. They had grown tired of the pervasive Chaos. Of the monsters. Of the living holes in space and time. Of the places where the land itself came to life. Of the men whose will intruded upon creation, who revered the Primordial Aether.

"On this day, a new beginning awaits us!"
Insignificant.
They gathered their wisest scholars. Their holiest priests. Across generations… over centuries… they crafted. Blood and sweat and failure and sacrifice eventually bore fruit in the form of a small ellipsoidal gemstone.

"No longer shall we cower!"
All that you hold dear.
It had the power to hold the Primitive Force they called Apakht.

"No longer will we be slaughtered!"
It can be so much worse.
To contain such a powerful thing - it would never be secure. It would need protectors. Guardians. The lock was set aside. Its time would come.

"No longer shall we live in fear!"
Pound your cities to dust!
People spoke of a prophecy. It was foretold that there would one day be four among them who would prove capable of this grave responsibility.

"These Four, our saviors, our gifts from the Gods, chosen by An himself for the task!"
Leave naught but ashes!
"It is they who are to seal this evil! It is they who have the strength to carry the burden!"
Please.
The Healer. The Soldier. The Tactician. The Shaman.

"Let our brightest of futures begin here, today!"
It already hurts. So, so much.



And so it goes, and so it goes
This primal thing had been indisposed
Its tomb had been sealed
Its coffin now closed



Once eternal, its end came swift
And the scales towards Order did drift
Yet Its day will come

A Paradigm Shift

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