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Tome 5 - Unleashed is the Tome that accompanies the Fifth Rift in Template:IconLink and is set to release on 21 October 2020.


Overview

The Characters chosen for this Tome are Nea Karlsson, Talbot Grimes (The Template:IconLink), and Max Thompson Jr. (The Template:IconLink).


Journal Entries and Recollection

The Hallowed Blight

This is the same Lore that was featured during the 2018 The Hallowed Blight Event.

1 - The Night

It is impossible to describe the horrifying scenes I have witnessed... death and misery, in every shape of terror, rule this place. I can no longer recall how I have come to this place. All I remember is the opaque, milky fumes of opium in the murky den hazing a sweet, welcoming abyss. I awoke to dreadful screams in this endless night, at the feet an old tree that leaked foul-smelling fluids. I know not how to reach those poor souls, nor do I want to. Keeping a record is all I can do to make sense of it.

2 - Vigo

I discovered a hidden laboratory while running away from a monster. Its stocks are uncommonly plentiful. I observed shelves of alkaloids, crates of silver syringes, piles of protective clothes and a journal signed “Vigo”. Its pages are filled with notes on an ancient force that controls the nature of this place—that shapes it. I also noted a few drawings of the growing cankers I've seen on trees.

3 - The Blight

I have been obsessively deciphering Vigo's Journal. His work is elegant but erratic, drawing obscure conclusions from disjointed fields. Most entries mention a powerful force, The Entity, which undergoes a purge that occurs once a year. During this period, The Entity is infested with blight. According to Vigo, cankers bloom into “Pustulas”, a type of flower that spurts putrid nectar—the thick fluid I saw oozing from the trees. The last pages of the journal mention a serum distilled from the nectar, but the pages detailing its effects and preparation were torn out.

4 - Wounded

I'm hiding in a dense strip of forest. I'm desperate to erase the distressful images engraved in my mind. Last night, a disfigured man barged into the laboratory with a gruesome, mechanical mouth and shred the walls into splinters. I barely escaped with my life—and wounded my arm in the process. I have no options left; these monsters find me no matter where I go. All I have is a journal filled with obscure promises of escape. I will return to the laboratory.

5 - Experiment

I'm close to death, I can feel it. When I returned to the laboratory, I started experimenting with the putrid nectar and distilled it into a foul serum. But I made a terrible mistake. I injected the serum into a dead rodent, whose pupils dilated, and its body shook. I tried to restrain it, but the creature bit into my arm, ripping my wound open. I stopped the bleeding, but I fear the damage is done.

6 - Experiment II

I awoke to a terrible cry booming from the cellar and a violent bout of nausea. Through the vile ordeal, I started to recollect what had happened. Tainted with the foul serum, my wound had swollen with lymph, at which point my assailant returned. Most of our fight was a blur, but I can recall red tears trickling down his gruesome cheeks as I clawed at his face. And some moment later when I kicked him, sending him crashing into a brick wall. The power I felt then… there are no words for it. I now know that there is truth to Vigo's methods. Another cry. My assailant, now chained in the cellar, must be getting restless. This is just the beginning.

7 - The Peak

I should have foreseen his escape, given the potent dosage I administered him, but I needed to see results. Pustula flowers are now blooming on the path leading to the laboratory. According to Vigo's Journal, this rapid spread is a sign that the blight is at its peak. Soon, there will be no more putrid nectar to extract.

8 - Exhausted

I slept very little. The acute throbbing in my wound sent me on a restless, agitated drowse. I have no strength left to be patient, and my distress fosters brutal methods. There are no lines I will not cross.

9 - Restless

I limited my rest to only a few minutes here and there—I cannot afford wasting time. Pustulas, once lush with nectar, were withering away at the roots of cankerous trees. I could only extract droplets from a few frail flowers. I'm running out of time.

10 - At Last

Based on Vigo's calculations, tonight is my last chance. I filled a syringe with the last drops of serum and injected it into my arm.

11 - The End

I did everything right… and failed. I am stuck in this infernal place with no serum and nowhere to hide.

12 - Vigo II

I looked for Vigo. I shouted his name with no concern for the monsters lurking about. I need to find him… I picture the scene, etching a canvas of wild lines in my mind, focusing on the moon and I know—something is off. I fed the dead rodent under my pillow.

13 - Pray

Soon, very soon, I will be at peace. The cold claws of death are drawing near.

--

It's here. The Entity is here. It has found me.


Memories & Logs

Talbot Grimes: Doors Unknown

Memory 1752

In the vast desert of rubble and crumbling columns he sees a flower, a single flower. He shambles through the ruins and extends his hand into a blurring image. Stem and petals disintegrate before his touch. An illusion... He looks up and there... another flower. He rushes towards it as the ground beneath his feet shatters. Endlessly he falls through the remnants of lost and forgotten realms. He wants it to stop. He can't take the rush of hot air and the feeling of his organs rising into his mouth. He hits the ground. Ribs jut out of his chest. Jagged bones rip through his fetid skin. "Where am I? What is this place?" He's in a half-remembered laboratory. He sees an emblem. The Company. He remembers the wars. The Opium Wars. He remembers the prisoners and the experiments and his endless search for doorways into other realms. He found them, just not the way he thought he would. Warm blood pools around him as thousands of decaying prisoners in company fatigues grab and claw at him. This isn't happening. It can't be happening. "You're dead! You're all dead!" He closes his eyes. A collective roar and the prisoners lift him over their heads and toss his broken body into a lightless dungeon. Dark. Cold. Lonely. He shivers and begs... "one more flower... I'll do anything... just give me one more... flower..."

Memory 1753

Power is in the mind — the eye of the mind as the mystics called it. The eye that lets us dream and visualise is more than we think it is. Much more. It is a key and it opens doors... Endless doors.... and the key is a secretion... a sacred secretion like a drug to travel within the endless worlds within the swirling chaos that is infinite life. "Blasphemy! Take your ideas out of this school! They belong to the devil!" He takes his ideas to The Company and says the secretion is better than opium. He tells them, there is no experience like it and he calls it the Dragon's Doorway. Makes the high from the poppy seem like cough syrup. He remembers the mystics. The unknown mystics. Mystics who chant hymns in the hope they will die with the right vibration. "Right vibration? What does it mean to die with the right vibration?" "It means they believe different vibrations open different doorways to realms unknown. Death opens the doorway... and the dragon carries you away." The Company is interested. "How would you harvest such an opioid if it's only secreted upon death?" "I'll find a way." And he does... only they find him before he can complete his life's work. He vaguely remembers being bludgeoned to death and thrown in a mass grave of corrupting bodies. And... he remembers being saved... by nine mystics in thick, dark tunics... "Where are the nine now? What have they done with my research? Why did they try to stop me? Questions... so many questions... Where is my flower..." "In your mind..." He thrusts his fingers into his sockets and tears out his eyes and digs deep into his head... searching for a flower... one flower...

Memory 1754

Even with no eyes he can see. It doesn't make any sense. He clambers about the muck and grime. He slips and falls and suddenly realises he's clambering over a heap of rotting prisoners and addicts. He pushes through as the groveling men and women beg for more opioids... for tea... for syrup... for opium-laced candies... they make ridiculous promises... "Take my house... my money... my children... take everything... give me more... just a little more..." They sound like him. He pushes through a blur of faces he vaguely recollects. Lives ruined, shattered, destroyed. Wasn't his fault. He hears a disembodied voice. "Kill them all and a flower you will have." He stares down at the agonising men and women and withdraws his cane. Smashes through limbs and skulls furiously. Heads burst open like watermelons. Bones break like dry sticks. He doesn't stop until he stands atop a mountain of flesh, vomit and gore. "Where is it? Where's my flower?" "Find it!" He falls to his knees and digs through the thick sludge of mangled humanity to search for a flower... finds one... but just as he touches the flower it withers away and disappears along with the remnants of his past.

Memory 1755

"Talbot... my name is Talbot." He remembers his name as he stares at nine hooded figures approaching him. He stumbles over a crumbling pillar with strange symbols written in a language he half-remembers. He remembers the school, the secret school, and the mystics and the arcane knowledge they were protecting. He was getting too close and he wasn't ready. Humanity wasn't ready. Knowledge without wisdom leads to self-destruction. He doesn't care about any of that. "You condemned me! You all condemned me! Left me to wither away!" A hooded figure approaches him. "You condemned yourself, Talbot! You condemned yourself..." The nine hooded figures disappear as a massive dragon bursts through the ground and peers down at him with dead, black eyes. The hideousness of its face transcends anything he's ever read about, seen or imagined. An ancient evil quickened with dark life! Talbot trembles in a fog of madness that envelops him. The ancient beast lashes out at him, snatches him in its talons and swallows him whole. Mingled saliva and acid rips through his tunic and burns his skin to the bone. With screams of agony he slowly disintegrates in a belly full of putrid, rotting death, watching his body and limbs melt into a gory endless mass.

Memory 1756

Talbot wakens in a mass graveyard of skeletons and decaying prisoners of The Company. He blinks and shakes muck from his hollowed eyes. He vomits everything in his guts and doesn't understand what's happening to him. Nothing makes sense except for his hunger. "Please... I will... do anything... give me what I ask and I am yours. Give it to me... I need it..." Vines suddenly burst through the decaying bodies and surround him. Flowers grow and bloom in all their glory. Beautiful golden serum drips like honey wherever his eye can see. He approaches one slowly and is scared to touch it. He extends his hand and touches the flower and... it doesn't wither away. He touches another. And another. Nothing happens. He goes to grab the flower but instead — the flower grabs him! Vines like tentacles burst out and wrap around him and rip through his veins. Nine hooded figures approach him with disapproving looks. "Knowledge without wisdom leads to self-destruction." They inch up to him. "Be careful what you wish for, Talbot. Be careful what you wish for."

Nea Karlsson: Rebel With a Cause

Memory 683

Nea skates over to Falls City park, searching for her friend Casey but doesn't find her. She skates to her home and her mother says she's in The Narrows handing out water bottles with a grassroots organisation calling themselves Life Drop. "Life Drop? The Narrows? What's Casey gotten herself into this time?" "You know Casey, probably some save-the-bees organisation that just doesn't understand the way the world works." No such thing as the American Dream anymore, only the Corporate Dream and the Corporate Dream and the American Dream ain't the same thing. She's read about The Narrows... supposed to be the poorest and most polluted district in Falls City. Maybe it's because it's the poorest that it's also the most polluted. Maybe it's because of corrupt yet legal policy against those who can't afford the big lawyers to change or challenge the corrupt policy. Paper mills. Car factories. Toxic waste facilities. All dumping on the land and water. A few politicians set the dollar price to poison the environment and an entire community of blue-collar workers pay the price, the ultimate price, with their health and lives. Nothing new. Same old, same old. The fat-cats and bureaucrats keep doing it because they can. So long as there's money to be made in poisoning the world, someone will be there to make it. That's everywhere, every city she ever read about, and Falls City ain't no exception. She used to care, but then there was too much to care about, and so she decided it was easier not to care anymore. Funny how that happened. All she cares about now is skateboarding and finding the impossible place to tag. Whatever, maybe she'll find something to tag in The Narrows. She skates down the street following Upper Falls River toward the poorest and most polluted district in Falls City.

Memory 684

"What are you and the mums doing?" Nea approaches Casey and several middle-aged women handing out water bottles and cases to local residents. Casey turns to Nea. "What are we doing? Anything we can to help." Nea laughs and nudges Casey. "Let's go to the park." Casey nudges her back. "Not today Nea, this is important... another day..." Nea watches Casey and the other women handing out water to the poor. "How many kids at home? Three? Okay, here's a dozen bottles. Four? Okay, take an extra container." "When is our water going to be safe?" "The hell if I know." "Is it dangerous to shower? To do the laundry?" "How bad is the water?" "Pretty bad. The water is killing our children. We need a centre to treat the poisoned." Nea listens to all the talk with horror and disbelief. She's never really had to think about something as basic and essential as water and now... she's thinking about water... polluted water... and the poor in her city. They're saying it's the worst case of Minamata disease in the country. She doesn't know what that is... Minamata... but it sounds bad, real bad. "What's Minamata?" Casey looks upset or disturbed as she hands out another container of fresh water to a resident. "It's what happens when people are poisoned with mercury." Nea sighs, feels for the residents, but knows shit happens and there's just not much you can do about it. "We can't save the world, Casey? What's a few containers of bottled water gonna do?" Casey freezes and gives Nea a look she doesn't quite understand. It's a moment before she responds. "Yeah, well, maybe we can't save the world, Nea, but we can sure as hell make it a little bit better, and that's good enough for me."

Memory 685

"Can't save the world but we can make it a little bit better and that's good enough for me." Nea thought about Casey's response the entire night as she researched the horrors of the Minamata disease. Deterioration of motor skills. Walking and speaking degenerate. Random convulsions. Paralysis. Children born with twisted limbs. All permanent side-effects of mercury poison. Mayor cut a deal with a beverage company. They rerouted good, healthy water from a clean lake for a bottled water facility that bought the rights to the water and connected The Narrows to the old river system. They thought no one would notice. They thought it wouldn't be that bad. They thought wrong. When mothers began losing their unborn children and everyone began to lose their hair fifty-thousand residents began to notice. They noticed, they complained, but no one did a thing. Business as usual. Nea takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. She's never really had to think about water and now that's all she's thinking about.

Memory 686

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 687

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 688

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 689

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 690

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 691

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 692

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Max Thompson Jr.: A Man Named Boy

Memory 3728

In the darkness of his cell he hears footsteps approaching. He hears laughter and gossip. His father with others. He's not sure who he's with. He puts his ear to the door and hears a laugh, a deep guttural laugh. He feels his skin crawl and his stomach twist in knots. It can only be Chief. He hates Chief, especially when he's with his Pa. They make him do all kinds of things for fun and laughs. His Pa brags about his 'killing tool' as he often calls him. More laughter. Other voices. Chief brought some deputies to enjoy the show. He wants to smash them all to bits just to make them stop laughing. Everyone laughs at him. The whole world laughs at him. He grinds his teeth with frustration. They ain't supposed to laugh. They're supposed to protect him and he knows it. He's seen it on his TV, the only thing that calms him and keeps him company when he's done his work. TV is something special... the friend and parent he never had... But Chief... Chief ain't like those on TV. He's another kind of Chief of Police. The kind that works with Pa to clean money. He doesn't even know what that means but he overheard them by the pigpen talking about cleaning a whole load of money and sharing that load with a judge and other men of the law. They clean money together. That's why Chief lets Pa and Ma do whatever they want to him. "Chief is crooked", his Pa always says. Crooked like his boy's face. The laughter grows louder. They approach his brick dungeon and he shivers at the thought of more slaughter. He's tired of killing to make a few deputies laugh. Real tired. He feels his blood boiling, feels it rising through his neck, feels it pushing up his face like it wants to burst through his skull. A sudden high-pitched whistling noise fills his ears. He hits his head over and over again until the whining stops. Silence returns, for a moment, just a moment, and then a chain rattles. Bolts snap loudly as he loses balance and falls back to his haunches. The door opens, filling his brick cell with blinding sunlight. He covers his eyes with his arm. His Pa steps inside, grabs him, and yanks him to his feet. "Come on, Boy! Let's show these deputies your worth!"

Memory 3729

In the sweltering barn, he stares at the blood dripping from his hammer, feeling as though he were in a dream. Strange. Weird. Unhinged. No. Not a dream. More like... like he's living in a TV show... watching himself from a distance. Slaughtered cows thick and wet all around him. Seven or eight of them writhing helplessly in warm, coagulating blood. Heads cracked open. Brain and gore spilling out. Flies buzzing around him, buzzing in his face, buzzing in his ears, telling him this slaughter is who he is. This senseless slaughter is his worth... his only worth. "Kill. That's what they love to watch you do. Kill. Kill. Kill." The flies are laughing at him. Laughing with Chief and his deputies, telling him he's so useless, he don't even have a name. "Boy! What kind of name is that!" His Pa shoves him towards another cow. "You ain't done yet!" Boy raises his hammer and shakes blood from his eyes. He feels strange. Weird. Unhinged. Fed up. He's had enough of this life, the cell, shovelling manure, slaughter, endless slaughter, and taking care of those pigs. Those prised pigs — pigs given more love by his parents than he ever got. The flies circle his face and laugh at him. The high-pitched whining returns. "The pigs got names and you didn't! Duke and Donny." He swats at the flies. Pa nudges him. "Come on, Boy, show'em you can do more with that hammer!" Boy... That's what Pa calls him. Boy... That's what Ma calls him. They think he's too dumb to know he doesn't have a name. A real name. He knows. All his life he knew. He knew and imagined himself as Max... Max Thompson. Imagined his Pa was so proud of him that he gave him his name. How he dreamed to have his father's name... how he dreamed... Pa shoves him. "Come on! Show'em! Show'em now!" Boy feels his face fill with blood. His veins swell with fury. His temples throb maddeningly. The next moments are a blur. Blood and screams everywhere! Not bovine... human... the whining begins again and he's confused, searching for his Pa but not finding him. The whining stops and everything is muffled. He turns to see Chief charging at him. "What have you done!?" Boy doesn't really hear him. It's like when Ma held his head in a bucket of water to teach him not to call or cry for her when he was a child. Everything's muffled, distorted, surreal. Chief tackles him and grabs the gory hammer out of his hand. "You killed'em! Your Pa! Jim! Don! Ray! My men! My fuckin' men!" Boy pushes Chief off and tumbles out of the barn, drenched in blood, heading towards the main house, screaming for his Ma in the growing dusk.

Memory 3730

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3731

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3732

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3733

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3734

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3735

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3736

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Memory 3737

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Sanitas Alionis: Logs 337, 1007, 1275, 2217, 5738, 5798, 7525, 8545, 8557, 8789

Arcus 7525

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 337

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 1007

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 2217

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 8557

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 5738

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 1275

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 8545

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 8789

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.

Arcus 5798

To be revealed in subsequent Tome Levels.


Trivia

  • A possible translation of the Latin phrase "Sanitas Alionis" would be "Sanity of Alion".
    • Assuming it is not merely a pseudo-Latin phrase (due to the misspelling of "Sanitas" as "Sanitus"), it is possible that "Alion" might be the real name of The Template:IconLink.


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