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Once upon a time, there were stars.

And Man coveted the stars.

An impudent child, he demanded them, snatching at the midnight twinkles like a moth hungers for the flame.

But Man asked for too much, and the price was great.

Now, none who live remember the stars. Now, none who live remember the great empires, their triumphs or their failures – or Man’s final Exodus. All that remains are legends within legends, whispering of the great darkness banished beyond the silver-blue sky.

Now, the legacy of the ancients floats across the abyss of eternity, Man’s dream of conquering the stars less of a memory than the stars themselves. For the glittering jewels of the heavens have been lost to him, lost for countless ages, sacrificed to the great twilight Beyond.

Oblivious to their history, it is the destiny of three very different youths - a selfish street rat, a royal pawn and a soulless child - to unravel the secrets of their world and bring to an end the war that has ravaged the universe for aeons.

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Following is an attempt to chronologically order entries shortly after they are made, for those who would wish to start at the first. Entries will later be sorted by category and period referred to as well. Included at end are basic instructions on avoiding contamination.

Introductions
Of Gentler Winds
Of Harsher Winds
A Royal Mess
Peeling Back the Layers
The Thick Skulls of Youth
The Blink of an Eye is Long Enough
The Best of Intentions
Gaseous Romanticus
With all the clarity of a block of granite
Tappa tappa tappa
The muddy depths of blindness

Prologues #1: Forbidden Fruit
Prologues #2: The Waking
Prologues #3: The Death of Ordaen

Appendix: Maps - Ur
Appendix: Scraps (undisclosed fragments)
Appendix: Preconfiguring the Imprint (irrelevant struggles of the conduit)

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Contamination - Rules of Engagement:

Should you intend to contaminate the flow of conciousness imparted by myself or any other unto the containment vessel by removing it or any part thereof in any shape, manner or form, have it known to you that the full force of the Purgatorial High Court will rain the fire of oblivion down upon you and all those you hold dear, with all involved consigned to the Great River unto the NothingHereafter from whence none have returned - and should there be any indications that you wouldst breakaway from the stream as very few have, to manifest your malignant self upon any other being and cause again your woes, I myself would cast myself in with ye unto the Great River, ensuring that the tendrils of death beyond death were wrapped around us both and that you could have NO escape before relinquishing my grasp and succinding to oblivion myself as well.

Should this be required in simpler terms for prehistory space age humanity, I believe the correct, appropriate term for the average simpleton would be something akin to mine, mine, MINE! No touchies!

The appropriate and only container who would hold all of these rights to this 'intellectual property' would be the vessel mentioned frequently in these chronicles, that miserable, pathetic, wounded little mentally atrophied inept being known as Shak, otherwise known here as scribblette. He would not have been my choice of vessels, but there was little time for pickiness and I have ensured that every strand of his existence is now contaminated with my telling, such that he will never be free of the knowledge I impart upon him, no matter what difficulty he may bitch about in the telling thereof.

If you are here with intent to negatively criticize in any fashion or vaguely inform me that the transmission should be 'different', your input is entirely unnecessary. The conduit's primary problem with transmission is his unending insistence to analyze every single neuron I spark and subsequently he notates absolutely nothing. This collection of entries is simply here in order to encourage a habit of writing down everything that passes through his mind, such that my task is made easier.

Editing and refinement can be done at a much, much later date. So please do not come here expecting him to focus on such, at least not until the entire tale is told as best possible.

The only things that could possibly be found useful besides pure and simple encouragement or precise, exact instruction would be another conduit, were there one that could assist - either depicting by illustration, design, programming or wrote otherwise what sparse information the Great River imparts upon flowing through them. If you are such a being, pray tell!

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