...On the Lic and other Forms of Necroincognizants
...Prelude ::ether

Death, decay, and rot exist in most all things. It is a sort of innate weather which is as omnipresent to things which live in its atmospheric rays as any other climactic event. Many civilizations are built around the idea of death: preventing it, worshiping it, trying to understand it, and so on. But even doing all one can to prevent it still allows it to be in existence, as a nemesis. Doing all one can to understand it, still allows to to flow freely amongst one’s peoples. Worshiping it, adoring it, feeling such artistic inspiration from its thrice-many tragedies, still does not hamper it, for it feels no difference. Then, as it is, to be ever ignorant to true death is the only way that one can avoid death. Such is the case with my people, the lic.

To us, it is an abstract. It is something that simply never occurs in our rotation, due to the grand spells put in place. In a sense, anyone that visits our realm becomes lic. And to become lic, is to become abaxile to death.

...Histories ::1

Yoring Days

In the times before, the lic were members of a people known as zamuiteuo. Within the city of Naesseumoa, what would one become the lic studied endlessly. It was a town renown for its miraculous sages, kept afloat by estranging systems of economy. The city of Naesseumoa existed in opposition to the Zhedeizamuiteuo, the empire of the people, and was an isolating place. By the time that the empire had begun to recognize the extent of the city’s collective power, no amount of wars and sieges could possibly bring it down. While many of our peoples were capable to infinite degrees, the intimidation we held was no doubt due to the ever-great sage now known as the Eccentric of Zhasso, the ever-great sage now known as the Eccentric of Jest, the ever-great sage now known as the Eccentric of Worship, and the ever-great hedon now known as the Eccentric of Violence. These four, who I might touch on at a later time, were well-known across the land, though by names forgotten by us now. At a certain point, Naesseumoa became less of a city in the eyes of the zamuiteuo, and more of a geography. We were, in a sense, as permanent and self-contained as the mountains, as the woods, as the seas. While never placing our hand into that of the world’s courts and things, we still had a certain political influence, a tool to be worked around and cleverly positioned.

This is the way it was for years, upon years, upon years beyond. I had no mind for it, most did not. We were able to continue our studies, our passions, as the ever-eccentric city. As years marched forth, more and more myriad walls began to build around us, if only because some enjoyed the construction of walls.

Forgetting Days

After some time, a grand project began to form. One which would allow time to have little effect upon us. And by us, I meant not only the things traditionally assumed when “people” are mentioned, but too the insects, the birds, the cats, and so on. As this project continued, it was soon realized that time seemed difficult to evade, at least compared to death. And so, the ever-great sage now known as the Eccentric of Zhasso was of the first to develop a spell of necroincognizant. With years and years further chipped from their time, the spell spread, one by one, to all things. The ritual was burdensome, destructive at minimum. It ate at their body so terrifically. To describe the growths upon their form, to relish the detail of the strange new hairs which so distorted their silhouette, to speak on the myriad spots of bronze-grey upon their frail and sickly skin, would be to do disservice to the wonders the ever-great sage brought. But it was clear that something had no favor for that which they accomplished. Certain things beyond us feared what we were doing. Likely not because we were a threat, but more so because these things beyond were reminded of things that were. To gaze at what the meager city of Naesseumoa was striving for, was to gaze into an ever-gruesome mirror of struggles they faced in the past. Perhaps, in a sense, whatever it was out there did not want whatever might emulate it in the future to have to face what we would become.

But what we know of those things beyond, and what we can assume, is a tale for a distinct time. For now, I must continue on, proudly rambling upon mine ever-proud city and its ever-proud history – which must contain no soured spots – as we are quite sound of reason and mind – as we are great thinkers, and cannot – simply cannot – succumb to such – – –.

It was a wondrous day when the final soul was blessed with necroincognizance. It was a sprite, once by the name of Canyzostrf, who still goes by that name in its worldly influences. But it is best known as the Eccentric of Beholding now, or also as the Final Lic. But after this grand project was complete, it was soon noted how horridly empty some were. Those who had their stakes in this project, and had spent so many of what the outside world called generations working towards creating the new city of Lic, felt a sudden nothingness. As is the case with many of us, some took the opportunity to focus on new ideas which excited them. Others looked for further ways to improve this post-life condition. Others looked for ways to improve the city.

While I do not mean to mythologize the Eccentric of Zhasso, it cannot be understated how much they had an influence in the early days of the realm, and the specific way in which it was formed. After the Eccentric of Beholding, the Eccentric of Travel, and myself uncovered the direction of rotation, it enraptured the Eccentric of Zhasso. It was in little time that they found a new calling for their spellcraft, as we all went on to explore the related concepts to rotation.

A prismatic years later, and it became known that the Shearing Spell was a completed and understood work. The Eccentric of Zhasso was quite capable of now shifting the rest of the waking world which was not touched by necroincognizance to somewhere wholly else. We would never be caught up as another pawn in political gain, and we could leave the city as we chose. We would never fear the knowledge of death beyond our walls, as the whole world around us would necessarily be unknowing of death.

For seven years, it was debated on. We had not the knowledge of what it might do to the zamuiteuo peoples, or any other life for that matter. While we simulated the possibilities, it was not fully understood the amount of strife that we could cause with such a spell. To date, we still do not fully understand the extent. What we did know was that the shearing would displace the zamuiteuo to one of two degrees.

As we had developed the measurements of the system, we have the honor of being betwixt the .1 and 359.9 degrees. The peoples of the land we once called home would be shifted to .2-1, or 359-359.8 in practicality, though we would not know clearly who in what direction.

One of the prominent ideas behind our inevitable decision was that we would be able to protect our former peoples from the potent things we had learned. For one of our more grand knowledges to leak out, in a time of ever-churning war and combat, would be to grant strict power to an undeserving and likely unwise force. Weapons like what might come from us did not grant eternal power, per say, but a chaotic, loose power that only a dictator might hold for their meager generation. The same sort of greedy, thoughtless power which leads to the deaths of thousands.

Another was that the strangeness brought about by the shearing might unite the peoples. In hindsight, even as a strong supporter of this all, I recognize that we were seeing those not of Lic as lesser, as something to be infantilized, and at the same time puppeteered. To say our decision was unwise, born from foolish power-drunkenness, born from short-sighted and eager guesswork, born from lack of compassion despite our very foundational ideals, is to do a disservice to how horrid we truly were.

Shearing Days

After the seven year cycle of debate, of disagreement and agreement and ever-building eagerness and curiosity, it was decided that the Shearing Spell would be cast. For months, it was quiet. The moon and parental stars danced above as ever. None knew truly what the status was, except those who were casting the ritual. It was on one grim day that the light from the parent star vanished in immediacy, even though its gaseous form still hung in the sky. It was still so lightly illuminated from the neighboring bodies, the same ones that still give us our mellow dimness which casts over the land. The atmosphere felt like that of a quiet morning after a harsh reality. It was at that point that we all woke so soberly, and many of us felt a deep fear.

I still remember mine macabre realization. I looked towards the Unvivid Mass of the sky, how it so slowly whirled in the faint details I could make out from it. I felt this sense of guilt. I still was unknowing of how we had harmed or hindered the other peoples, still being firmly focused on the peoples of Lic. But it still weighed above me. This sight was not a sight we should have ever seen, even as those unknown by death and beyond humanity. Never should form the lightless star, and the bizarre orange, purple, and teal light from our now-guardian stars which defined that around us now. Never should be the ability to churn and twist the very cosmos to our will. Never should be this path that we had taken, if only because it felt so antithetical to nature, on the broadest scale possible. But it had, and we as a whole people were responsible. And for not more than to sate our curiosity, arbitrarily held pedestal by fear and a will to exert some perverse authoritative protection. And we as a whole people were drained of something naive that stranging morning.

It was the Eccentric of Beholding who first understood the tragedy we had begun. It was a short five hours after the spell’s completion, as the Eccentric of Zhasso revealed themself after many months. They had begun to speak on the details they knew of it all, and the Eccentric of Beholding began to breathe more laboredly. Even as we waited on it, it could not bring itself to describe the terror we wrought. It wasn’t for a few days that we understood that it held witness to a land cut apart. Buildings laid crumbled, fractions of them whisked away to a degree that we have to ability to witness to date. An undefinable amount of life was whisked away in the blink of an eye. There remains many peoples and cities that still remain unaccounted for by any of us. There remains many animals and plants that should be, but are not.

It was not as if the world was filled with gashing holes or somesuch. No, it was swiftly patched by the rotational degree of 1. And so, the people who we could still have some visual on, some knowledge on, the people who were once the zamuiteuo, were swiftly and chaotically placed into a realm held by what would one day be known as the Monarch of Fae. It truly was then that the zamuiteuo - many half unaware of the very past they had, half being physically tattered by the Shearing Spell, and all holding only confusion - became the metaacata, became the survivors.

Even as they waged struggle against the Monarch of Fae and even as their past faded into stranging fable, we still saw and knew their struggles. Just as unsettling, we had no idea where the other slices of the rotation had went. We still have no method of viewing it. Their history, their struggles and deaths, remain unknown to us in entirety. This grimness held us for years, and still does for many. Some of us are dedicated to trying to find some way to aid the situation. Most of us are too fearful of what could come as consequence from a second brushing of our influence. What other unintentionals would we stir? Who else would die from our clouded hand, if we were to touch again the realm of those who die? We all held our answers in firm, and we continued on all in our eccentric ways, with this grandiose guilt upon us.

...A Paging of Eccentrics ::2

The Eccentric of Recognition, {Lic E6nR}

In the aftermath of the Shearing Spell, I swallowed the pride of my city swiftly. I was once firm in believing that the Shearing Spell might be a grand symbol for us. I thought that this thing, now horror, would become our greatest achievement. But I found myself to be a fool. And since, I sought to rid myself of that.

I have specialized in the realms of recognition. I have reflected on much of this world, and of the world we cast away, and the strange blend of a place it was cast to. I spend most of my years within the six-hundred and fifteenth grand study of the fourth series of the Eccentric of Interiors. By my memory, it exists within the Folding Halls in the Miniature House, both collaborative projects from a number of people. I write most days, as to paint a more clear picture of what is known. I hope that, by reflecting on this, I should one day see and recognize the gaps between. Perhaps through this, I am producing a Grammar of all we can know. My work has been used as the baseline or inspiration for many projects, and for that I am most wholly gracious.

Perhaps my proudest recognition, as of writing, is the recognition of knives. While too lengthy a concept to discuss here, the gyblyn’s knife phenomena suggests that all beings might be able to born knives.

The Eccentric of Zhasso, {Lic F54nR}

They still certainly feel guilt over their most horrible spell. While the shearing spell did, in hindsight, all it was specialized in, the Eccentric of Zhasso felt immediately that the spell was a failure. Not in terms of execution, as the ritual was performed without flaw. But instead in terms of design. They had felt that they had a poorly understanding of Zhasso and its many mysteries, and will still claim that they do now. Be it true that Zhasso is a certainly complex magic, but they still know the absolute most about it.

They still study Zhasso to date. Some days, they are fearful of it. Others, they are in absolute awe. Without their work, we would not have many of the marvels which seem to bend reality at will that we have today. They still search for a method of fixing what they have done, though even they have no idea what that entails.

Their proudest achievement is still the Rituals of Who Death Forgot, and understandably so. To have created the ritual was one thing, but to have truly spread it to each and every entity within Lic is something even more extraordinary.

The Eccentric of Beholding, {Lic R-1}

The Eccentric of Beholding remained in a state of shock and depression for some time. Even still, although it interacts with the world of the Visible Degree on rare occasion, it mainly stays observing of all events, and sitting in its melancholy. It has still not been able to digest the grimness of the Shearing Spell. Much less, it still has a horrible time processing the horrific acts caused by the people and systems of the modern land of the Visible Degree.

It oversees all events, and in some ways, it can feel better from the glimmering moments of wonder and joy. But seeing all still so greatly drains it. It cannot help but continue viewing the changing tide of the world, and what musings may be gained from it. Very few know where it remains. It speaks to none, even still. However, it still knows all that has happened here, and within the Visible Degree.

It seems to weigh none of its achievements in any particular magnitude. However, it should be honored for its ability to see and keep in touch with the Visible Degree.

The Eccentric of Jest, {Lic H9nR)

The Eccentric of Jest had a different focus before the shearing days. Thon was one of the warriors of Lic, proud and of near unmatched might. Thon had, on many occasions, spoke with the peoples outside of Lic. Partly, this was of thons own interest to spread around the interesting ideas of martial prowess. However, it also acted as a nice way to warn the rest of the world that the Lic was still not a defenseless place. Thon had made strides in innovation in the world of combat. While it is unseen by most in the day modern, thons unique flavor of combat is simply unemulatable.

The Eccentric would surely slaughter me if I did not speak on thon’s current pursuits, though. As thons name suggests, thon is now an expert of relief and comedy. Thon had felt it more worthy a path, as we had no enemies any longer, and we all felt a grant depression weigh upon us. To date, thon reveals thonself to those of crestfall - typically within Lic - and aids them in coping. Without thon, we would all be in a sorry state, without doubt.

Each time I asked thon of thons greatest achievement, thon answered with a joke I know too well. It answers nothing and takes at least 4 years to complete. It is certainly not thons finest work, to be sure.

The Eccentric of Worship, {Lic O1nR}

The Eccentric of Worship is known by more names than I know. It seems like each soul I speak to knows a fold of the Eccentric of Worship that I had never known of before, alongside a name I had never heard. Many of us chose to only go by notated name - such as my {Lic E6nR} - but a few still carry their old or chosen names. The Eccentric of Worship remains unrivaled in her namedness, but let that not suggest that she is many. She is one, and says as much. She simply enjoys acting the many niches she feels she can fill.

I say this, as many of her names remain lost. While many of her names held the sort of flavorings that connect it to Lic, some of hers had more influences from the outside world than anything. As the shearing spell struck, however, many of her names were simply unrecallable. To date, she shutters at the thought of how many people still call upon her, in some tongue long forgotten and unanswerable. She was in support of the Shearing Spell as well, as she felt it made it easier to be worshiped. There was something fitting in her mind at the time, about being so cloudy and impossibly intertwined with the magics of the cosmos.

She still continues in her ways of being worshiped. She is known by many things, and so many of them might not seem as the same entity. With the magics of freely forming ourselves paired with her ability to take on these distinctive social roles, she is simply undetectable in tracing. Had she not made herself known, the Eccentric of Zhasso would have had quite a difficult time understanding why there were so many people of different names who had inexplicably became necroincognizantly blessed, while not having directly interacted with them.

When prompted upon her proudest work, she provided a sighing response. With as many years as she had lived, and as many tragedies as she had seen herself cause, she felt not proud in one of her achievements. Even those which seemed grand and positive in all regards, eventually became corrupted in time. Even those of private worship, those who are steadfast and untouchable by corruption in their secret mysteries, are but one person in a sea of infinites. To be satisfied or even proud of something small such, she feels, is to limit herself. And to deifically limit breaks the very ideas of being worshiped.