The End is Nigh

[Strolen]

And the clouds opened up on the enigmatic echoes of nonesense and a voice boomed across the land....

"The End is Nigh"

And the prophets gathered and wrote many words of prediction and prophecy through ominous fear and confusion in response to this otherworldy threat.

"Great waste will be laid to the land and that which was known will become unknown." Torn Rope, Medwick Scholar

"Threads of promise [for some] will become oathbreakers and martyrs." Page Wendel the Seer and provoker of much nonsense

"Great locks will be placed on threads that have fallen on disrepair of anything pertinant to sane comprehension." Tortle the Rabbit - insignificant multiplyer of unwit

"Threads will be locked. Threads will be pruned. Once inane natter is more manageable conversation will be more groomed." Strolen the tyrant before the natter apocolypse

"Too much focus on nonsense detracts from anti-nonsense and useful conversation." Wise Scribbler of Stuff Which

"It was total devestation and destruction but, like a pheonix from the ashes, all was turned to beauty and then made more sense." Ischta Gorbinsaw the Elder

[Murometz]

wow...I love these prophets (and their names). Particularly joyful are: Ischta Gorbinsaw, Torn Rope, and Tortle the insignificant multiplier (of unwit).

Bravo!

[Pariah]

Excert from the book of Wunderrir

And in those days there was a great many things said by the peoples of the Tower.  And for a great time He was pleased.  Until one day he looked and saw much discordant inanity.  Though a few were true to his teachings there were still a great many how babbled without thought, and much was said that opposed His great vision.  So the Lord spoke unto the rabble and the great multitude was warned.  But many called unto Him, "And what, Strolen, is it acceptable to speak of?"

[Strolen]

And so the scholars searched the alcoves for verse, lore, and wisdom to guide the wayward and they found a yellowed parchment that predicted and praised the coming of the cleansing.

In the time of the dungeon which comes after the shard yet before the [text undecipherable] the followers of Non Senz will become abundant and their words will spread as a plague across the land. And it is not the content of the message they bring but the quantity the messages that will destroy the countryside and leave it barren. It is in this time of great need that a power will come upon that land and smite down these excesses and bring light and wealth back to the land in the form of twofold moderation. The people will once again rejoice as the masters of excess are returned lovingly to their original homes where they may continue to live in peace with the land and practice their enigmatic echoes.

[Murometz]

wow...this is a great thread! 

I'm enjoying the gospels! Then what happened?

[Strolen]

Coded text found amongst a cache of human remains, clay beer steins, and ceremanic bowls with remnants of what some swear is smashed, spiced tomato.

"...it came in twos. Two by two till there were two. Two is the number and two it will be and has become. The taste of two is in the air and the feeling of two is in the ground. Two is pledged and Two will remain until Two is all that is known. One will be dispatched as silently as a bat's whisper and One will be as an impregnable vault. One is no more and One is no longer. In this way it will come to the land by Ones that begot Two. Both silent and obvious will be the sign. As one sun rises and one moon sets there will be Two that are left and that is how it will remain until the next coming.

[Strolen]

And the voices cried from the creative void, "Why, why has though destroyed our lands? Why can I no longer plant my inconsequence, why can I no longer forge my natter?"

"It was foretold." Chanted the prophet from Inspire.

"My lands have refused me and my home has rejected me," the inspirational void begged.

"It was foretold. These lands were not meant for you. Through mass and insignificance you have taken what belongs to others and shaped into continuous unuseability. You have overwhelmed the land burying the true treasure. When men walk, they see the quick destruction of what has taken years to build. They see the quick buildup of that which will never last. It was foretold, the meaningful will once again replace the meaningless." So spoketh Charles de Wit Knight of the Dame Dame

[Ancient Gamer]

And the rabble despaired, for doom was upon them. All their prayers to no avail, all their natter for the crows to feast upon!
It is a cruel, cruel world!

[Pariah]

And so it came that Non Senz no longer preached of GAHZZAHGK.  And a blissful silence reigned for minutes.  But soon the quill was taken up and ink was laid down into the Most Divine of His Books of Natter.  But many were happy still, for the floodgates had closed and all was as it should've been at creation.

[Shadoweagle]

Brilliance! The second I started reading Strolen's first post, the One Winged Angel (Sephiroth) Theme from Final Fantasy Advent Children started playing. Such atmosphere! Such dreaded portent!

[CaptainPenguin]

And the lost children of Non Senz looked back, attempting to ape the Elder Days, but from the ashen wreckage of the Old Ones' kingdoms they could glean but little. Then, with tears in their eyes, they reread the words of the ancient prophets, and cried to the sky, for if only the Old Ones had heeded the words of those mighty overlords who administrate the divine laws.

[epsilon]

The bleating's of the arrogant ones fell on parchment  like thick droplets of rain. There they mixed with the scrawls of ink, manifesting themselves as painted mutterings of the untruth. The Strolen lord called for the disagrea and with their muting powers they cursed and banished the arrogant ones. 

But Non Senz prevailed as it always would. The devine ones halted creation as best they could but it was like a swollen river about to burst its banks. The ceremanic, claybeer stein's moved onward, unstoppable, unpredictable. Wave after wave they came. And there, standing at the Point of Quill  they appeared. The two were never one and the one would never be too, until the day when the two could join as one. Many moons sailed across the sky, many winters failed, the snow and desert dwelt together in the bosom of extracted stanza . Looming from this, time of no times, emerging from the blotchulisim of ink, sap and bleatings, the Natter Trilogy arose, formed and tumesced until it could no more. The natter matter convulsed, ruptured and spewed forth its contents followed quickly by its index.

Tortle the Rabbit unwittingly witnessed said events. He had been groomed for this day, his life would culminate here and now. He fluffed himself up, drew in a draught of air and made ready his prattle.

Code: [Select]

The Termination has undone, the becoming has begun....

[Ancient Gamer]

[...] and in Switzerland the Great God of the Void stirred, metallic rumbling resonating as he tested his shackles. Great, black ravens spiralled in the sky, their cries pitiful, their eyes dripping with blood.

"Woe, woe, woe unto thee, for october 21st, october the 21st is our day of reckoning, when the Hadrons collide, when the streams of Proton awaken the Great God of the Void from his eternal slumber"

[Strolen]

The land sat in sorrowful silence. The cleansing being complete for years, the quiet remained impenetrable.  The echoes of inanity had drifted to the distant past leaving an emptiness, a void.

"Did the destruction have to be so complete?" The first cry by Inaner the Insaner is repeated in far corners of the abandoned land and is left without response.

"Was the wrath that was brought down justified? Were the choices made truly for the good of the land?" The voice of Conde Fuez'n is only a whispered question now, the passion behind it long lost to the dust of the land.

The worshippers of Non Senz skitter about in fear, scared to raise their voices, frightened of the smallest sound. Hidden away from those who hold misunderstanding of their ways, those ignorant of the value, those who simply can't comprehend what could be buried among the clutter.

Could it be a new wind is rustling the natter in the Citadel? Could the foretelling of the cleansing be only a moment in a cycle? Is there still room in the world for the chattering of the Enigmatic Echoes that once filled the land? The balance has shifted precariously, can it be brought back into equilibrium?

[Murometz]

Chocolate won't help.