Ergo DecipiaturHover over cards for details, click for permalink
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ThemeRenaissance
(lowercase) a renewal of life, vigor, interest, etc.; rebirth;
revival: a moral renaissance.
This character is one who wishes to bring about a magical renaissance
by giving the powers of Divine Creation to mortals. She battles
Elementals to find the Worthy amongst the deluded.
MechanicsThe deck is based on Chaos and Change with a constantly evolving army
of impossible monsters. The idea is that she will play the zero cost Rays of Light, mutate them, and then be able to Twin Universe the resulting creatures for doubly-new random creatures. The Entopy Pendulums in conjunction with the Aether mark is designed to cover the Mutations and Twin Universes. The Shards of Serendipity are there to throw a bit more random out (as she doesn't view herself as particularly malign, in fact she feels what she's doing is even a rather noble calling, despite the collateral damage, the Shards do not break thematics). And the Quantum Towers are to cover the cost of any creature ability that should happen to show up, and anything the shards give.
Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur, a Latin phrase, means "The world
wants to be deceived, so let it be deceived."The Story She has never been as she appeared. Even in the days of the long gone
flesh She was the spirit of deceit given form. Child of ten thousand
possible births – never telling the same tale twice – She made her way
as a False Oracle spreading vain hopes and lies couched in incense and
mystery. It would take the last vestiges of a True God to raise a base
prevaricator to an undeserved Godhood and unleash Bedlam on a world
taxed enough by the uncanny.
Deep in the long-ago She proclaimed herself a Voice of the Gods and a
Speaker of Hidden Truths while keeping a step and a town ahead of any
who might dispute her. There was a fair old fortune to be made in
those days from the desperation of the crook-backed and put-upon – so
long as one was as fleet of foot as they were quick of tongue. By
this She lived from season to season with winters in the lap of luxury
and summers on the road, nothing so important as the moment and the
pleasure or profit it could bring.
There was then a True God, or what was left after the worshipers had
turned to other stranger beliefs, and it would have its last act,
before passing on to the fields beyond the Known, be the
transformation, indeed the redemption of this Great Deceiver. The
Light of Truth would burn away her sinful nature and She would stand
revealed in Guileless Radiance.
The True God met her then in the market of a Mighty City and turned
over impossible coin to have its fortunes told. She, the fabulist,
knew there was more to the individual who had come seeking her craft,
but just as surely could not pass up a test of her skills. Upon taking
the hand of the stranger She found herself now standing above a field
filled with statues. No wind blew here and the sky was an endless
featureless grey.
The Stranger gave Her some moments to take in the endlessness and the
stillness before them then in a voice much like Morning said “You see
before you the Gardens of the Iniquitous Tongue. Those who were
counterfeit in life, who were not true to themselves. Here they can be
nothing but what they are.”
At this She went amongst the Damned and with hammer and pry-bar
removed from the bag slung across her chest - and showing no sign of
hesitation - carved into the chest of the first “Bob”. The Statue
disappeared.
After 'Hamish', 'Rudmilla', and 'Cyril' the True God took Her hands
before She could strike another blow and demanded to know what She was
doing.
“Introducing a falsehood. I name them wrongly and they can not
possibly stay in a land of perfect Truth.”
“Then they are destroyed!” The True God opined.
She turned her eyes then to her own arms held firmly by the True God
“Which is close enough to Freedom.”
Seeing the lesson he hoped to impart utterly abrogated the True God
then released Her and in a blink caused them to appear on a golden
beach under a gentle sun, caressed by a cooling breeze. In the
distance shimmering figures soared on iridescent wings and cavorted
amongst the waves.
“These are the ingenuous, the veracious, they who in life lived
honestly and now enjoy a lightness of being unburdened by sin or
craft.”
She watched them for a time, the pure, immaculate beings in their
endless leisure, “And what have they built?” She asked.
The True God at first perhaps did not entirely understand the
question, but in time answered, “They have no need to build, or make
anything; they have no need for toil of any sort, this is their
reward.”
“They have become pretty things in a cage for you and your sort to
watch as you chuckle about how you have scared them into living
according to your arbitrary rules.” In this place of sentiment made
tangible the rage bled from Her in waves strong enough to set the
wheeling, cavorting souls on nervous edge. “Without deceit and
destruction there is no creation, and to keep this prospect to your
pompous selves you invent rules for mere mortals to bind and strangle
themselves with; Heavens and Hells to punish or keep complacent souls
that could make their own worlds without your bindings.”
By the end she was shouting, her voice risen to a volume that caused
the perfect beach to tremble and the shimmering beings in the distance
to flee for whatever unknown shores lay across the now turbulent sea.
The True God then raised his hand and She stood defiant awaiting a
blow that could not only end her existence, but unravel it to her
conception. Instead the True God slashed its hand through the open air
and split the very fabric of the world causing a rent though which a
riot of colours She could hear and lights She could taste flowed.
“This is the stuff of Creation!” The True God bellowed, the edges of
Heaven unraveling about him. “If mortals could abide the wilds between
worlds, it would be theirs to inherit, but you are soft, even your
immortal souls are fragile things and would be torn apart.”
In Her eyes then, in Her old thief's heart She felt something.
Something stirred. There was a longing growing under her ribs and
behind Her eyes brought on by exposure to that font of protean turmoil
pulsing through the gash in the firmament.
The sound was a sigh, but the words became something tangible in that
rarefied air. “You only wish we were so weak.”
The True God almost smirked at the thought of a mortal so deluded,
until She sprinted headlong past the God and through the break in the
sky. He stood there speechless, this inconceivable thing throwing his
cosmic consciousness into tumult, but still aware enough to be
surprised when the indescribable creature lunged from the rift and bit
the True God in half.
The Lady on the monster's back chuckled to herself as her beast
consumed the remains of the God then turned them both about and pulled
the edges of Heaven closed behind them. Oh, the capacity of the mortal
imagination given the right resources!
Word Count: 1070