Deep into the endless black of the cosmos. Nestled somewhere in the twenty-third nebula lies the cold monstrous world of emerald origins deemed Vhoorl. A wondrous place of dark mysteries where the tides of time ripple forward and collapse back into the Great Void. A world said to be as big as some whole galaxies. The seas are vast and could be contrasted with the furthest distance between planets in our cozy little Milky-way. On the shores of Vhoorl lies the jade Mountains of Viridia. It was here where Mynarthotep was given instruction by the Great Priest Dread Cthulhu himself. Aeons were spent fashioning his genetics and mind to mirror the Great Void. When this perversion of sorcery and science had reached it's alchemical culmination, Dread Cthulhu planted his seed.
It was 1110 B.C.E. when a vagabond tribe found him unconscious in the deserts of Arabia. A slender man of dark features made prominent by his almond-shaped eternal eyes and elongated face. Children described him as being almost two men in statue with the mighty cobra's physique. Through the first winter, Mynarthotep had performed wondrous and abhorrent feats seeming to defy all laws of man and earth. As a gift to the tribe he began teaching the Black Arts of Viridia to them, he taught them of the Great Old Ones and how he'd dedicated himself to Cthulhu.
By the second winter the night skies were filled of sacred fires, a rhythmic and luring chant saturated the winds. "Ia, Ia Cthulhu Fhtagn!" with every repetition the fires grew higher into the night skies. The tribe embraced Mynarthotep as it's High Priest. It is said that Mynarthotep was so adept to observation, he was thought to be all knowing. Mynarthotep held all instruction in his personal ritual chamber. The chamber held mysteries of strange geometries and defied all principles modern science has woven it's fabrics from. In the last decade of his life, Mynarthotep was believed to be so old and tired that he could no longer muster the strength to carry himself. Others believe that perhaps only a slight residue remained of the ascending Magus. No matter the cause, during those final days he was carried upon a Sedan Chair to each point of visit.
The morning of Mynarthotep's final instruction, a group of skeptical initiates chose to test his legendary omnipresence. At the very back of the chamber lied a shrine. The shrine was filled with memorabilia of such antiquity, the dust rested knuckle deep. Among the symbolic relics of Mynarthotep's trials and tribulations was a replica of mysterious Trapezohedron. Convinced there could be no way Mynarthotep could possibly see this Trapezohedron, they chose to lay in on its side. A pact was made among them not to so much as even think of this object during the instruction. They then quickly took their places. As with every morning that had come to pass, Mynarthotep was carried in and then his Sedan Chair was placed to the floor. As he began to speak, his tired voice broke and rasped.
"This morning I will tell you of Zimri-Lim and his three eyes"
A moment passed as the rustling quickly fell to silence. Mynarthotep began describing a young Initiate named Zimri-Lim. He went on to explain that Zimri-Lim was a brilliant mind who could wield the Lesser Works with such precision and mastery as any Master could. Zimri-Lim sadly had no success in the Higher Works and was baffled as to its causes.
" The Greatest Viridian Mysteries cannot be Worked in unless the Magus has mastery of his Essence" denoted Mynarthotep.
He went on to explain that the frustrations of this had driven Zimri-Lim to seek a mentor to model. Having heard of an all powerful Magus-Priest said to be an effective instructor in the Higher Works. Zimri-Lim pledged Initiation of the Magus-Priest. After examination of Zimri-Lim, he was sent on a quest for a mysterious cyclopean egg only found in the caves of Canaan near The Great Sea. The Magus-Priest instructs Zimri-Lim to consume only the part of the egg that would provide nourishment to his Essence. The Magus-Priest continues by warning that consumption of any other portion is poison to his magical-self. Zimri-Lim unsure of the distinction, inquires as to the method of determination. The Magus-Priest further puzzles him with a vague answer of 'Choose Wisely'.
Along the sea-green beaches of The Great Sea was a set of emerald cyclopean mountains. Afoot of these mountains was a single cave with an iridescent hue taunting from within. At the mouth of the cave a nest of 666 jeweled eggs. Eggs that averaged a head and a half in height, but one was almost three heads tall. Surely these were the eggs he'd been sent for. Spiraling into the madness of deliberation, Zimri-Lim spent weeks on the shores of Canaan.
"I shall not eat of the shell for it is a facade. Like the Masks of Men, it is designed to be perceived precious and infallible. Nor will I consume the whites of the egg for it is a mere map, designed to shape and mold the creature within. It teaches of limitations and mortality. The answer is so obviously the yolk... but what if I am wrong?" murmured Zimri-Lim.
Zimri-Lim ponder this for what seemed to be an age. Amidst in thought he recalled the words surrounding the last instruction received.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear lies in the possibility that we are powerful beyond comprehension. For this reason you must choose wisely" the words of the Magus-Priest echo through the halls of his mind. The moment had come. All the pondering had been exhausted. Zimri-Lim had finally chosen to be great. Choosing only one egg, Zimri-Lim broke the shell. Scoop by scoop, Zimri-Lim emptied the whites from the shell, finally exposing the gleaming teal yolk. A knee-jerk just before the first taste. Reminding himself to be great. He savored every morsel with ever growing immense delight. No honey so sweet as the nectar of emerald yolk.
The skies rapidly filled with neon-lime lined black clouds. A sense of cosmic epidemic fell upon Zimri-Lim as the quake of the waves rose to a mirrored height of the mountainside. A mass of oozing tentacled fish-headed hydra rose to the skyline. Grabbing up Zimri-Lim, the tentacles slithered and flickered about his body, jolts of an apocalyptic vision was transfered. A transformation was completed.
A muttering about the chambers indicates to Mynarthotep the interests of the Initiated have reached a crystal peek. He announces he is tired and the instruction has come to an end. The bearers of the Sedan Chair come to carry Mynarthotep to rest. The unsettledness of the faculty abroad had emerged to prominence. Mynarthotep raised his left hand to signal a stop.
"Did you wish to know the ending of Zimri-Lim's three eye's?" he weakly inquired. Affirmation was over zealously expressed.
Mynarthotep explains "At our conception we are as the yolk, pure and potent. As we are conditioned, a thick layer of filtering begins to murk our crystal clear pools. We learn to mimic what ever is expected of us and when this has hardened it is like an eggshell masking the Yolks of Essence. We must suspend the whites and magically model our yolks to greatness. Once we've mastered our model we can resume, not long after will we begin rapid transformation. Consider the shell to be what people think you are, as it is the eye of your physical center. A literal Mastery of Mimicry and Perversion of Personal Perception. Consider the whites to be the thousands of voices weighing and measuring, this is the eye of your emotional center. This is what you think you really are, a mound of suffering and self-doubt. Consider the yolk to be the purity of your essence, as it is the eye of your mental center. It is what you really are and a Testament to True Will and the Black Arts of Viridia"
Moments passed as the crippling stillness of Initiates ingesting the proverb spread before them.
Mynarthotep continued "As for our Zimri-Lim in accordance to his vision from Dgn, he gathered up 13 of the 665 eggs left and the largest of them. He traveled back to the Magus-Priest and his fellow initiates. Offering one to each and the largest to the Magus-Priest. The eggs were ingested and an ascension began, the Children of Cthulhu would never die! Beneath the Magus-Priest's decorative shell, beneath the poisonous whites, the yolk was a Trapezohedron, a limy-iridescent stone of odd angles with wisps of purple mist laced with cold black haze. Much like the replica you chose to disturb this morning."
