Philosopher's Knot

The Philosopher's Knot was a device designed by the Demon Hunter Osven, and was used to kill Maelshyve in 430 AV. It was sorcerous in nature, employing Feral magic.

Osven says, "This device will not only kick her squarely in the chest with enough force and fury to bind her, harm her, lobotomize her, but also slam the door shut. The door may still have a small opening, or be held open a crack, but it's not going to be a wide open access portal for other forces."

Initially thought to a a single device, it was later revealed to be a pair of devices.

Final Appearance

Study

What's before you is an exceedingly complicated contraption called the Philosopher's Knot. You think you can TURN, CHARGE, or RELEASE the device.

Examine

Composed of nested rings, the device appears to be designed with unparalleled craftsmanship. The sturdy outer ring is spiraled brass and steel, with eight facets smoothly alloyed into the overall structure, alternating between dull mottled cambrinth and red-gold orichalcum. The inner ring is a spiral of niello and lodestone, and bears several spokes supporting a central sphere of cambrinth. Capable of spinning freely with the barest whisper of friction, the inner ring bears a minute inscription of an "O".

Focus

You focus your senses on the complex device and recognize the extremely volatile signs of a Feral Energy enchantment. Structures derived from wild mana admixtures are piled high like precarious bricks, continuously sparking against one another, yet there are no explosions... for the time being. You attempt to evaluate the unevenly energized patterns.

In the sapience facet, there is approximately one-ninths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the blood facet, there is approximately six-eighths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the vigor facet, there is approximately six-ninths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the motive facet, there is approximately two-nineteenths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the Holy power facet, there is approximately four-twelfths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the Life power facet, there is approximately two-tenths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the Elemental power facet, there is approximately five-fourteenths the energy needed to attain activation.
In the Lunar power facet, there is approximately one-sixths the energy needed to attain activation.
The Arcane power core has been fully charged, ready for activation.
Roundtime: 26 sec.

Final Activation

With a bone-rattling *SNAP*, the devices activate! The outer rings explode with violent energy and slowly begin to rotate in perpendicular directions, the inner rings emitting an escalating roar as they blur into a solid sphere of rippling light cast with bizarre reflections and inky tendrils. Above the cacophony and light and noise, a woman screams in pain.

With a loud groan, the outer rings continue to pull against the black ropes, and dizzying red and green lightning plays across the area as the pent-up charge has nowhere to expend itself. Purple miasma pinwheels from the inner rings as conflicted space is translated into nonsense, and mutually exclusive laws of reality blend and wrestle for dominance. A woman continues laughing, her mirth and contempt echoing around the area.

In fleeting snatches, your mind sees the true essence of Maelshyve, or at least your mortal mind attempts to render an imperfect translation of the sensations bathing the area. It is much like a sphere of bubbling tar, hanging in space that does not actually exist within the projected outline of Maelshyve's purpose. Vortices of demonic filth ripple and crash along smaller and smaller segments of the hanging pit, endlessly expanding into infinity as you focus on any portion, and your feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into her form. She continues to laugh at your failure, at the futility, at your audacity.

The devices rattle, broken, ineffective. Crackling lightning ripples in all directions, and space reflects and stretches into chaos. Flashing columns of light beyond the visible twist and braid as the devices shed excess energy, the outer rings stretching and burning with mutable law. You feel your form explode into constituent particles and reform under your flaying will. The demoness laughs, delighted at the bounty delivered into her midst.

The mirror fractures. You fall into your reflection, the unfolding sphere of her true form slowly extending hideous triple-tined claws covered in radiant green eyes -- unavoidable, inescapable, all-encompassing. You realize you are screaming.

Stepping out of your blind spot, Osven soars forward, howling in rage, a vial clenched in a bloody palm, and a ritual knife held in the other. He slams the vial into the mass of tendrils binding the devices, then impales his hand with the ritual knife. Reality reasserts itself with a shock as the tendrils pulsate strangely at the point of contact. Rimming the three-part admixture of solution, blood, and ritual knife, a fluorescing circle of will and intent pins Osven in place. As he begins to chant, the inky tendrils bristle and begin to whip against his body, piercing and slashing, and the woman continues to laugh. You lose him a moment as he is pinned to the devices, engulfed in inky blackness.

Between writhing tendrils, you see Osven flare brilliantly with oozing reddish black energy that pulsates and courses down his arm, gathering around the combined skewered mess of his hand, the bizarre admixture, and the ritual knife. The knife erupts with white light, the tendrils recede, and Osven begins to shout in defiance and rage as the white light slowly encompasses his body, pouring into the device. He continues shouting as he begins to desiccate, his paper thin skin tearing and flaking away, clotted blood and dried sinew crumbling. His eyes burn pure white, and his skeletal remains push the knife deeper into the ritual circle. The tendrils begin to snap, and Osven's light surges into the devices' outer rings, which begin to spin with renewed vigor, scattering the remaining tendrils in all directions. After a moment, Osvens mummified remains crumble into dust. The demon's laughter turns into screams of fear.

The devices continue to accelerate, each of the now-free four rings gathering in speed and warping the no-space, shrinking the sphere of muck. The triple-tined claws twitch and crumble, and there is one last desperate surge of boiling rage as the device fully activates, cutting a quadruple-layered sphere around the brilliant twin-star core. The demon continues to scream, trailing off to choked gurgles.

The essence of Maelshyve ripples with circular pulses that you instinctively recognize as coming from the device instead of her. It ripples four times, soothing and smoothing the surface of the sphere. The devices thrum with power, constant and unchanging, stable and complete. The sense of Maelshyve's essence shrinks -- a fragmenting shadow of what was, a broken and lobotomized remnant, a dwindling scream of ancient rage. Within seconds, it is over, and all that's left is a flat circle, a surface that might as well be black-painted mirror.

As it settles, a cloud of jagged edges billows outward, and a rain of chalky black bone begins to fall!

* A meteor streaks across the sky but Osven's soul cannot walk the Starry Road, trapped forever.

Chalky black bones continue to erupt from everywhere, tearing into your body! You instinctively grab some of them before they lodge.

The demonbone rain subsides as the devices thrum steadily, flashing brilliant white, the door to Maelshyve's purpose held ajar.

You hear the sound of Osven screaming from within the energies of the devices. Their purpose complete, they remain, stable.

The Reexamination

On 22 Dolefaren 433 an expedition returned to reexamine the device, to determine whether the lost remnant of Osven's soul could be liberated.

The Response

What passes for sky in this space begins to fill with a purple haze, and the pervasive skittering and yowling in the distance ceases immediately. The haze deepens, and shatters into nested maws, expanding all around you, thunderously quaking in rage and wrath. What passes for sky in this space begins to fill with a purple haze, and the pervasive skittering and yowling in the distance ceases immediately. The haze deepens, and shatters into nested maws, expanding all around you, thunderously quaking in rage and wrath.

An endless laughter echoes, polyphonous voices building and playing against one another. They watch in the distance.

An unbearable buzzing begins to rattle your bones, to sunder your tenuous comprehension of the Plane of Abiding reality you cling to in this place, and you feel your mind slipping.

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
The purple maw filled haze fills your being, encompassing the entirety of your awareness, and you know nothing beyond maws within maws and an insatiable need to feed. As if stepping back, the four entities give way to a deluge of skittering beings, a mass of claw and tooth, voracious and impatient. They cover the corpse and rip chunks from its form, feasting and passing pieces back along the host. After a moment, they recede, and strangely, the remains appear unchanged, before vanishing into the distant nothingness of shadow and writhing smoke. Tentacles and scaled wings explode from your body and you feel your form rent, changed and molded to fit Their plan, Their desires, and feel yourself giggling as you run your tongue over your sharp fangs, snapping your fingers one by one by one as the bones grind and the tendons snap and your begin to laugh, begin to cry, and suddenly, reality reasserts itself, the device below once again correcting for the discrepancy.
Possible Subjects: Unknown	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You see a man unfurl a length of tapestry from a loom and pause to examine it. He holds the fabric between his arms, scanning along its length, examining every inch of the complex weave. As he progresses, the material begins to fade, losing coherency as it becomes transparent, ephemeral. Before long, the man is holding nothing but air, and the vision fades.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
Suddenly, space fractures, and a razor plume of ichorous slime spirals outward, skewering a screeching form composed of distorted space. With a loud snap, the plume withdraws back into the fracture, which reseals behind it and resumes its agonizing withering. Protrusions of jagged space resembling triple-tined claws reach and grasp, and you hear the echo of weeping, she screams, dying, she screams, broken. They gather and feast, they tear and rend, and there is nothing but eyes upon eyes upon eyes upon eyes and you fall and there is nothing but Them and They wait, ready and wonderous and horrible and full of promise. Reality reasserts itself, as you sense the device below correcting for the discrepancy.
Possible Subjects: Maelshyve	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
Swirling kaleidoscopic explosions of no-color spread across your sensorium and you hear Them howling for entry, feel them clawing against the back of your memories searching for weakness, for openings. You forget the smell of the sea and they clamor in the space that was your impression of the last sunset you observed. They are close, they are ready, and you find yourself screaming when suddenly, everything goes silent, and reality reasserts itself, the device below once again correcting for the discrepancy.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Osven's Memories

The devices pulsates oddly a moment, shedding sparks and fragmented reality. The thin sheath of familiar reality is unaffected, maintained and stable, but the area feels heavy with something else, something within the devices.

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Before you stands a quaint village square. A Human child with jade eyes and a square-jawed face is pulling water from the well, grinning at a younger girl with matching eyes and the same smile, the two clearly siblings. The children laugh, and walk away together carrying a sloshing bucket, spilling a little. The scene shifts, and the well is a burnt and ruined mess of crumbling stone and wood, and a stern-faced man in immaculately bleached linen robes stands near by, fists clenched. The man begins to scream in fury, and the well shatters. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. A softly lit room flickers before you, firelight sending warmth across the carpeted wooden floor, and a boy is carving a small unicorn figurine with a small knife, scraping at the soft wood to bring out the fine details. A small girl sits nearby, watching, and they talk of the grace of the Immortals. The girl coughs, long and rasping, and the boy looks up from his project with fear in his eyes. The scene shifts, and the boy is weeping as he holds her pale form, and she rasps a final breath, her tiny fists clenched around an unfinished unicorn figurine. The boy continues to weep, and a stern-faced man looks to the sky and closes his eyes, the setting sun playing across his tanned skin. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. A musty library extends before you, forgotten books crumbling on stone shelves, and a man with jade eyes pores over a scroll, copying a translation into a sketchbook. His lips move slightly as he works, a tiny candle all that stands between him and the oppressive darkness. A young boy walks beside a small donkey drawn cart, his hand gently clasping the ankle of a shrouded corpse. The boy stands tall as they approach a sprawling city, the gleaming Temple of the Light shining in the distance. He holds an immaculately detailed unicorn figurine. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Blighted woodlands open before you, a creeping rot emanating from a pulsating mass of skittering shadow and claw. A man slams his ritual knife into the forest floor and completes a complex diagram that flares with red and green light, and a high-pitched squealing tears through the area and after a long moment, begins to fade. The rot recedes, drawn into the ritual knife, and man studies the mass as it withers and dies. A young boy kneels before an altar to Hodierna, placing a carved unicorn figuring on its surface, but is answered with silence. A curious green glow washes over the figurines surface for a moment, but passes, the chalice still missing. The boy's small fist clenches. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Osven sits in a clean office, passionately debating something esoteric and technical with an older man with dark skin and grey eyes. They smile at one another affably. A young boy returns to his village, and finds it nothing more than ash and ember. In the plot behind the burnt remains of his families home, he and his parents bury his sister. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. An ashen faced feminine monstrosity seductively trails an impossibly long finger along Osven's jaw, no reflection born in her sunken jet-black eyes. Osven clenches his ritual knife, and gazes at her in challenge. A young boy sits alone in a workshop, pressing a long thin blade against a grindstone, sparks flying as he works. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Inside the Temple of Light, Osven watches an older man heatedly argue with a priest. You overhear words discussing a chalice, of helplessness. His father raises his voice, challenging the words of the priest -- "If the gods cannot save one innocent child because a kobold drew a symbol and stole a cup, how can they save any of us?" The priest cautiously responds, attempting to appease the man, raising the adventurers that are bravely seeking to restore the might that the gods had one given, how an ancient champion would restore the grace of the divine. Unsatisfied, Osven's father reaches out for his son, and squeezing the boys hand both in and for reassurance, they leave together. Osven looks back, and watches the priest bow his head in sorrow. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Osven sits before the gates of Riverhaven, staring eastward, hate and purpose written across his face. A Gnome with a scrawny build and white-streaked auburn hair approaches timidly and bows in respect. Osven smiles, and returns the bow. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. A young boy gathers herbs in the forest, studying the variants and occasionally writing something down in a small notebook. He sits against a tree, and watches the sun setting. He takes out a long thin blade, and gazes at it thoughtfully. An adult Osven stands at a complex alchemical bench and pares a slice from a cylinder of paraffin, the preserved black and blue tendrils visible within the cloudy substrate. Carefully placing the slice in a thick glass flask, he lights an alcohol lamp and begins to work. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. A cluster of wooden huts wrap around a flickering fire. Terrified villagers huddle around the dwellings, circling around Osven standing over a young woman, his foot perched on her chest. He raises his voice, invoking an arcane phrase in Imperial Gamgweth. Horrified, the villagers steel themselves, advancing on the pair. Undeterred, Osven points at the crowd, and a massive construct lurches toward them, arms wide in challenge. Their will broken at the advancing beast, he returns his attention to the woman beneath him. Without hesitation, he draws a vial from his belt, and pours its alchemical contents onto her. A shriek pierces the night, and her limbs twist at impossible angles, convulsing and writhing. The facade of the woman shudders, revealing a diseased, withered shell of amorphous blue tendrils that erupt from a desiccating husk. The remains grasp blindly as an echo erupts from clenched teeth behind withered lips. His foot holds the monstrosity in place as it withers and shrivels. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. A young Osven is being brutally beaten by a trio of guards, as they swear at him, calling him "Filth!" and "Monster!" His nose breaks, his eye swells shut, and in a moment of rage, he grabs one of their wrists and breaks it in a quick, clean motion. The guards unsheathe weapons, and Osven gathers his strength, summoning Arcane forces, his body changing. The other men recoil in terror, and Osven pauses and releases the spell patterns and energies. He gazes at the guards, spits a mouthful of blood on the floor, and weaves Eyes of the Blind to make his escape. Osven enters a tall building, and works his way through winding passages. The once-woman looks up from her work, her five eyes conveying dismay and amusement at his blooded face and swollen eye. He shrugs it off and begins to knit his flesh, healing his wounds with coursing energies, and sits at his desk to write in his notebook. She watches his back a while, and without turning, he begins to defend his decisions. She snarls in agitation, though this is clearly a conversation they have had before. He clenches his fist, snapping his charcoal, and with a sigh, she steps forward, placing two hands on his shoulder, and handing him a fresh charcoal with the third. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven, Sivroch	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Osven stands before the vivisected remains of a blue-eyed woman with lavender hair and pale skin. Her figure is emaciated, and she has been opened breastbone to naval, her organs carefully removed and studied, her blood in vials neatly arrayed and tagged. Osven places two hands on the table edge and bows his head a moment before respectfully gathering a needle a thread as he begins to gently sew her flesh together. He wraps her body in a shroud, and places his hand on her brow and takes a shuddering breath. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Seated at a workbench cluttered with crucibles and alembics, Osven consults his notebook and carefully marks a precise angle on a sheet of clay. He continues sketching out precise lines and angles with exacting measurements, and checks and rechecks his work. With a dull sculpting knife he carves out the mold and evenly fills it with hot wax. Some time later, he hunches over a ring of forged steel, brass, orichalcum and cambrinth. He reaches to the side, turning the page of his notebook. From a vague glimpse, you view a complex diagram depicting an octagram, each point of the star bearing a symbol representing a unique activation. A second diagram to the side of the book depicts a spoke-and wheel design. Satisfied with his work, he inserts an inner ring, testing its rotation. As the two rings appear to rotate smoothly within one another, his head dips with a nod of grim determination. The reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Date and Time: 03/07/2020
You are momentarily overwhelmed with someone else's memories. Snapping tendrils of black and blue grasp the device, stopping its motion, and reality is crumbling against the weight of Maelshyve's will. Osven watches as his plans begin to fail, those he has enlisted watching as Maelshyve makes a final push that may doom them all. His sister laughs with joy as he shows her an unfinished unicorn figurine, his father smiles proudly at his craftsmanship. A vial snaps into his hand, his ritual knife sings, and Hodierna's altar shifts imperceptibly. He sees what must be done. He always knew what must be done. Osven jumps, the reverie fades, and your senses are restored.
Possible Subjects: Osven	Repeat: false

Osven's Fate

The device pulsates again, and returns to standard operating behavior. You sense what remains of Osven is still within, and still screaming. Maelshyve's remaining essence roars, autonomous reflexes randomly firing as she continues her long process of dying. The skittering masses huddle ever closer. The devices remain. Osven remains.