“We know now that before the Mansus, there was not Nowhere for it remembers, for it was, and now I remember too. Unlike it, I was not, I merely am. But perhaps one day I will have been.” Ioannes Kiasidaris, the Whispering Keeper The Monument was, and it is. Almost certainly, it also will be. When the Other Place ended, it ended brutally, but it did not end finally, nor did it end completely. The Monument was a thousand things before it was a God-From-Stone. It was a palace, a library, it was just a slum and even a ruin back then, but before the Subsumption it was a building, a silent, unmoving construct. When the old world was overthrown, so was its stasis. It woke, bleary-eyed, but clear-minded, one of the first Gods from Stone. Memory is deep and memory gets everywhere, and it claims to remember the past, in fits and bursts, but more than that it seeks to restore the past. It is the god of the nostalgic and historians, those who seek to reclaim ancient truths, long-forgotten texts and stories, but more bitterly, more coldly, it is the god also of revanchists and reactionaries and fascists, those who seek to reclaim past empires, to reclaim old subjects. Its power manifests as an ironclad resolve and a memory that allows nothing to escape. Even its fully human followers are impossibly strong as they strain the human body to truly insane limits, unlocking reserves of strength many humans never will uncover. Time is also very little to it, this Hour that remembers so much more than its age, and the currents of the aeons twist in strange ways around it. Its followers have been known to appear in history far before they were known to have been introduced to the occult, or even born. Whispers echo of its final ambition, to twist the currents of time enough that it can see the past, or perhaps, just perhaps, save it…
| The Monument | |
|---|---|
 | |
| Origin | Stone |
| Titles | The Ruin-Remembering, That-Which-Remains |
| Names | The Whispering Keeper, the Pale Knight |
| Aspects |
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| Owner(s) | SRN |
Contents
History
Description
The Monument is everything of the world destroyed by the Subsumption. A mere stone lying by the roadside, or the cyclopean ruins of the Grey City. Its will manifests as a trembling of the walls and voices whispering in your ear... if you do not offend it. Never has the Monument truly gone to war. It is too static a creature. But many a foolish treasure-hunter irreverent of precious relics or scholar of the occult too careless in his steps has found himself staring into the dark, hollow eyes of a skeleton that certainly does not look quite human...
Appearance
Principles
Worship
Cult
The
Mark
Servants
Locations
The Mansus
- The Grey City
- You could see this from kilometers away, the great, pale, eerie spires and cyclopean towers, looming over the empty roads. I passed through the gates last night and was consumed by fatal melancholy and memories of my life. I remembered my mother, so long gone, and how she had smiled. I still remember that now, and the peace remains in my heart.
- Contentment
- I passed the gates last night, overcoming my tears. I found my way to a building that perhaps was a library and saw the inscription upon its walls. A prophecy of what would be, places that would be built upon its ruins, and the memory still lingers in my mind
- Low tier History lore
- I had resolve in my heart last night and I strove to made it to the center of the Grey City last night. A great citadel dominated it, one that rang with the cries and crashing of long-lost battles. I breathed in the air of battle and splattering of blood and part of it remains with me today.
- Low Tier Edge influence
- I had ambition in my bones last night and I climbed and I climbed the tallest spire of the city. I gazed up to the sky, to the great light of the glory high above. Now, even as I wake, the memory of its light warms my mind, a pale image of Glory
- Low Tier Lantern influence
- You could see this from kilometers away, the great, pale, eerie spires and cyclopean towers, looming over the empty roads. I passed through the gates last night and was consumed by fatal melancholy and memories of my life. I remembered my mother, so long gone, and how she had smiled. I still remember that now, and the peace remains in my heart.