Draoi Rua
rating: +15+x

ᚈᚐ ᚐᚅ ᚇᚓ ᚌᚐᚅ ᚐᚔᚅᚋ ᚐᚌᚒᚄ ᚌᚑ ᚆᚒᚃᚐᚄᚐᚉᚆ ᚔᚅ ᚐ ᚌᚉᚑᚅᚐᚔ ᚃᚐᚑᚔᚅ ᚐᚅ ᚉᚂᚑᚉᚆ ᚄᚓᚑ
ᚉᚆᚒᚔᚏ ᚇᚏᚐᚑᚔ ᚏᚒᚐ ᚐᚅ ᚇᚓ ᚃᚐᚑᚔᚅ ᚐᚅ ᚉᚂᚑᚉᚆ

"Can you make heads or tails of this?" asked Jason, pointing to a photograph of a shattered rock.

"It's Ogham script," replied Amina.

"Please tell me you can read that."

"I probably can, but I'll need some time."

Amina approached the desk and asked the archivist for an Irish to English dictionary and a guide to Ogham. Thirty minutes of transcription revealed the message. "Yes god without name and horribly living under this stone," she told Jason who immediately put his head in his hands, "Put Red Druid god under stone."

"What did they do?" asked a concerned Amina.

"They blew it up."

"What up?"

"The stone."

"Is the inscription true?"

"Who knows? No one who's gone looking has come back."

"Isn't releasing eldritch abominations counter-productive to their cause?"

"Shut up and help me."

"I haven't got enough to go on."

"It's eating reality. The jailors are trying Scrantons but they're only slowing it down. We're honestly fucked if there isn't something here that can deal with it. Look, I need to be at work in a couple of hours, please do your best."

"How long do we have?" shouted Amina as he slipped out of the Library's great hall.

"In three days, an average person will be able to bend reality, in three weeks there won't be a reality to bend," he shouted from down a corridor.

This is a role reversal, thought Amina.

She immediately dashed to the counter and demanded books on The Red Druid and Draoi Rua. The archivist soon produced a stack of materials that required three trips between the desk and her table to move. Daunted, she inspected each book and scroll in turn before discovering a vellum scroll with Ogham text. This looks promising.

A sense of dread overcame her as she transcribed the Ogham script into Latin; she had realised that it was either nonsense or cipher text. She silently prayed that it was the latter. Unable to identify any simple cryptographic methods at work, she began to work off of the assumption that it was some form of primitive one time pad. She assigned a number to each character and performed an XOR operation between the cipher text and the phrase 'Draoi Rua'. Eventually, having worked through the night, she found what she believed to be a fragment of key text: 'Capall XI'.

Though it had confirmed her suspicion that the scroll had, in fact, been encrypted using a one time pad, she was still no closer to discovering the key text's source. She returned to the library desk and requested some books on cryptography. "Bletchley might be able to help you," announced a white haired blind lady behind her in the queue, "he loves cryptography."

"Where can I find him?"

"He's the wizard with the machines towards the back of the hall."

"Thank you!"

Amina scurried to the back of the hall and found a stereotype. A reality bender with a long robe, a pointed hat and a white beard. However, rather than a staff, this one wielded a clockwork contraption made from bronze and brass which on closer inspection appeared to be a Turing machine. "Hello, you must be Bletchley," said Amina, extending her right hand.

"Greetings, wanderer!" replied the wizard, "I am indeed Bletchley."

"I was wondering if you could help me to break a one time pad."

"And how long might the key be?"

"1,800 characters, approximately."

"I'm afraid that would take an eternity to solve, and a machine of vast size."

"You're a reality bender, could you not make a machine of vast size?"

"In this reality, my creative abilities are limited to my field of vision. Besides, the machine would still be far to slow to break the cipher within your life time, if not mine."

"This reality?"

"Other realities are far more malleable, deceased or dying realities are like Plasticine whereas this reality is more like marble."

"Thank you for your help," said Amina as she turned tail and walked back toward her table. She had covered more than half the distance before coming to a realisation. She sprinted back to Bletchley.

"Do you think you could move something at, let's say, nine hundred million kilometres per hour in a dying reality?" she panted.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"If I ca-"

"Of course!" he shouted, "General Relativity!"

"If I can find you a dead reality, will you help me to crack the cipher?" asked Amina, nodding.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure."

With that, Amina – now having gone nearly forty-eight hours without sleep – began to scour The Library for ways connected to dead or dying realities. The docents proved to be of little help and she had to rely exclusively on wanderers for guidance. As she frantically asked people for ways terminating in an empty reality, she chanced upon Jason.

"Amina, where the fuck were you?"

"Looking for your info."

"The bookburners have fucked up further."


"They've blown up the Scrantons."


"They consider them another anomaly."

"Do they give any thought to self preservation?"

"They think they do, but in reality they don't. Are you any closer?"

"Much closer, how long do we have now?"

"There are acid trips manifesting themselves on the streets of London."

"Look, I need you to ask people if they've seen any ways that lead into a dead universe, meet me back in the great hall by the desk in two hours with your findings. Oh, by the way, if you can find someone who speaks early medieval Irish, it would be a godsend."

Amina continued her frantic search, sticking her head through every way that she encountered before eventually running into one only to be met with the sensation of the saliva boiling on her tongue and her vision going blank. She had run headfirst into a vacuum. Moments before certain death, she felt her vision return and could breathe again. I've just warped reality!

The trauma of her encounter with a vacuum gave way to elation. With great haste, she made her way back to the Great Hall. With Jason still seeking a similar reality and a scholar of medieval Irish, she first came to Bletchley and informed him of her findings. "Come on Bletchley, I've found a reality that fits your requirements! Even I could bend it," she exclaimed. Dragging Bletchley at a pace which he found uncomfortable, she picked up her transliteration from her desk along the way.

It took a mere twenty minutes to get from the Library's great hall to the dead reality, Bletchley was visibly impressed by her find and outlined his strategy. "I'm going to create a two symbol universal Turing machine with up to fifteen states on a scale never before imagined, I'll have it halt when it runs out of tape so that I may add more if the initial amount proves insufficient and I shall construct an antechamber that will be accelerated to near the speed of light in order to create relative time dilation," he exposited.

An exhausted Amina left the transliteration and returned to the great hall and located Jason. "Where have you been, I've been waiting close to an hour, we don't have time for this shit!" he said, "I found an Irish scholar for you, by the way."

"I have someone decrypting it as we speak," she said feigning confidence, "And thank you for your help. I'll need both of you to come with me now, if that's alright. I'm Amina, by the way and I'm afraid we have to rush because this translation will be time critical, we'll pay you accordingly."

"My name is Martha, nice to meet you."

"Will we?" asked Jason.

"I will."

The trio ran to the broken reality and entered to find Bletchley had created a magnificently beautiful machine of cosmic stature resembling a stationary pulsar with a device that parsed punched cards of planetary proportion. "Is this your guy?" asked Jason.

"Yes, he is. Is it ready to go?"

"Give me the word and I'll start the process."

"Go!" shouted Jason and Amina in unison.

With that, Bletchley closed his eyes and the cosmic beauty behind him came to life.

"Oh for the love of god, an IBM 1401 would be faster than that thing!" said Jason.

Amina and Bletchley looked at each other and smiled as the way and its small antechamber in which they stood accelerated to within a trillionth of the speed of light. The machine became a beautiful blur. The experience was over as soon as it began, and Bletchley manifested a page containing the result in his hands. After revelling in his own brilliance for a few moments, he passed the page to Martha who read aloud a translation.

"The nameless god was once a druid. I, the Red Druid, played a role in his corruption. Together, through experimentation on lower druids, we developed the theory of the æther. Using our own personal observations gathered by warping druids of lower prestige; we found evidence of a presence, an unseen quantity that made warping easier in close proximity to those capable themselves and more difficult within them. The ratio of difficulty defined the strength of the druid. Using these findings, my colleague pursued godhood by sapping the world of its æther to augment his strength and reshape the cosmos to his own liking. It took a coalition of two-hundred druids under my leadership to entomb him beneath the stone. If the stone is ever broken and the nameless horror that was once my colleague unleashed, his æther must be drained to facilitate his recapture. The replacement stone must be marked with a message of what lies beneath and four co-axial spirals must be carved around the circumference. This text must be passed from druid to druid along with the method of encipherment. Man must never play with the æther lest we err again. And that's all of it."

"Okay, I'll find a stone mason and more benders, you'll help us won't you Bletchley?" said Amina.

"No," replied Jason.

"What do you mean no?"

"I'll just tip off the jailors and have them draw reality away from this nameless bastard instead of pumping it in."

The nameless god was re-contained by Foundation personnel using re-configured Scranton Reality Anchors following a tip off from Global Occult Coalition operative Jason Graham. Reports of anomalous activity were attributed to the ravings of hippies, more blatant anomalies were dealt with through mass amnesticisation.

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