第十领域与末日到来 几乎每个宗派、公组和门派都有自己的一套“第十领域”理论，从“自我”到“统一场”到更出名的“一体”。它们全都经过了深思熟虑、不懈研究和积极探讨。
当然，它们也全错了。
第十领域根本不存在。没有通向完美的“终极真相”。自人类首次看到世界，知晓更多事物以来，就没有能解决困扰其的无数问题的简单答案。若有的话会很方便，但世界很少符合期望，也必然不会特意顺从人类。觉醒者得自己调和这些矛盾，但他们却不接受现实本身的规则，却转而编造故事，用数代乃至数世纪使自己相信它们属实。九宗中的许多都如此，以证明最终清算数年前，于穹界神秘出现的第十位座，为自己所有（
译注：穹界每个位座对应一种魔法，一般应仅九个，所以第十个出现引起了很大关注）。这种错觉令他们成为了一位狡诈猎人的猎物——第十位座只属于一个人，而无人能挑战他的归属。
第十位座的大师 他在数千年中拥有无数名字。在中世纪欧洲，他被称作漆黑者，是巫术和崇魔主使（一些人认为他就是魔鬼之主）。在他很久以前就生活了许久的阿拉伯世界，他的名字是阿尔-阿斯瓦德——也是他给那些追随自己的堕圣贤所起的称号（阿斯瓦迪姆）。对苏美尔人来说，他是乌特-纳匹希塔姆，被诸神选中以活过大洪水的原初之人，之后被赋予不朽，但被迫与所有低等存在分开。
实际上，他，上位存在的钦定领袖，都是又都不是这些东西，他的真名也早已遗失在时间深处。他身为可能是有史以来最深谋远虑的人类，被选中并非因力量或知识——足够古老都能拥有这些东西——而是其睿智、耐心和战略意识。攫升他的众神仍记得自己被曾居住的无尽幻影所抛弃，被讨厌的全新事物——存在——所排挤。他们看在眼里，痛在心中，因为自己虽强大可怕，却永远无法成真。而这种特权却为那些存在于讨厌光芒中的事物所有。
然而这些上古之物奸诈狡猾，知晓许多进入世界的密道——因驱逐而破碎并极大弱化时所留下的沟痕。它们将自身碎片，本质的沧海一粟，送入了世界，寻找那些能听见并被打动的人。最后，一个活物听到并回应了。
随后开始的是场对话——也许是人类和精魂（如果那些并不存在，却饥渴而仇恨之物的化身真叫精魂）达成的首次交易。他帮助这些上古黑暗于现世成真，作为交换，它们会把他攫升至所有造物之上。男人牺牲名字，签订了契约。他将真名刻于石上，丢入火中，随着石头变黑，他的发、肤甚至双眼也都和沥青无异。驱逐上古黑暗的元神碎片目睹了一切，害怕了。它们在恐惧中从自己的尊位降下，途经数个位面，以同样方式和凡人融合。这个无名之人，以契约提升了感知，感到了这改变，并在内心深处笑了起来——这些所谓的“元神”早已播下了自我毁灭的种子。
万年战争 就此便开始了漫长征战，为最终的篡位并毁灭现实妥善准备。觉醒和沉睡者史上的一些关键事件出自他手——一些，但绝非所有、大多甚至许多。他只在必要时亲自出马，其它时候就让人类易产生的邪恶来自己完成。当发现其他有价值者时，就会和其订立契约，将他们变为之上黑暗的化身容器。包括他共聚集了六人——最初的六位生而受诅者，以上位存在的腐化毒害世界的可怕灵魂。
许多年后，希伯来人才将他们命名为克里珀斯，生命之树的外壳和死亡之树的“美德”具象。但他们现在已是外界存在的活的映射。无名有他的君主皇后，他的手眼，就像他自己也是那些上位存在的手眼一样。
六位堕圣贤，最初的灭世者，以巧妙操控、温和怂恿、冷酷威胁和偶尔乏味暴力的精确应用，合理塑造了人类历史。然而，就如无名自己告诉其余人的一样，只引导而不强迫相当重要。人类能自己毁掉世界，需要的仅是最基本的指引。他更愿视自己为慈父，帮助他的孩子——全人类——完全开发其破坏潜能。
就这样，几年变成了几十年、几世纪甚至几千年。无名和他的同伙目睹了苏美尔和埃及、希腊和罗马的崛起。所有他们发现的，值得接受其主“馈赠”者，都被带到隐秘之地——那些外界存在被野蛮驱逐时留下的密道，以血洗礼，撕碎灵魂，再由内到外重新拼凑。他们如此是为了令学徒们理解原初存在所经受的苦难，并洗净他们的凡性弱点和不足。强者再现，完全改变——残忍、讨厌、狡诈而强大；弱者则根本不会再现，而是徘徊于这些深沟密道的庞大迷宫——如蛛网般遍布世界的腐朽脉络。然后见到那些他们称为主人的存在。无人能在这些年长之物的饕餮中幸存。
最重要的是，无名建立了堕落契约的准则。据此，人类能让外界之暗进入自身灵魂，成为其力量化身。实际上，他通过和主人的谨慎交易，使自己掌控着所有契约的非常架构。无论灭世者知道与否，但从那天起，他们全体都只服从一个人的意志。他虽为此牺牲甚多，但认为这代价是值得的，因为他的主人强大可怕，不会太在意凡人这等渺小的存在。有个看守这些动物的人再适合不过，而无名，它们的首位奴隶，很契合这个职位。最后他成为了它们的唯一仲裁者和负责分配其力量的人。这等权威后来于他很有助益。
世界改变 随着时间和时代推移，无名逐渐发现自己被隔绝得越来越远，甚至比世界最远的彼岸都还遥远。他如此充斥着主人力量，以至他现在更像虚空，而非织锦的造物。但必要时他仍能施展意志，行走于现世里黑暗的偏僻道路，以将一些隐秘和渎神的知识传授给他邪恶秘艺的天才学徒。然而最后他不情愿地意识到，所有堕圣贤最终都会被世界完全隔绝。是时候把契约的知识传给他人，这样他们就能建立可怕纽带，将灵魂献给主人。
无名为此选择了数名男女，将他们聚集于乌尔城废墟。这时自加利利一个木匠儿子出生以来，已有三百一十三年。他共挑选了二十人，所有都被依次叫来，站到他面前。他盯着他们的眼睛，直至天亮，还有六人活着，他们现在都对契约之道了如指掌。无名为向这些子民展示他力量的奥秘，花费了太多精力，疲惫不堪，于是他退回了虚空，休养生息。虽然他需要数十年方能再次醒来，蹂躏人类世界，但他对自己保留的一个秘密感到高兴——无论还会发生什么，他的胜利已经注定。
愿效忠无名者众多且来自五湖四海。一些称黑暗为“撒旦”、“伊达鲍斯”、“阿里曼”或“路西法”。他们视这些外界之物为诸神（许多时候也看做一神），向其祈求力量。不少背离了为人类殉道的他的崛起，拥抱契约，作为否认十字的一种手段。其他来自远离罗马、波斯和其它文明基柱之地的，开始将黑暗理解为无数精神（魂）。一些把它当作鬼魂——从冥界回归，以仇恨和嫉妒折磨生者之物——来崇拜。最后，对虚空的纯粹崇拜也被玷污，被赋予那些存在于亚当知识外，且从未被他的话语意志塑造之物以名字所亵渎。
因此，堕落者力量既在增长又在减弱。因为他们在命名主人时，给了他人知晓其的能力，并从其身上获取力量。它伤害巨大，堕落者无法很快恢复，但一切不过延缓了必然的到来。元神——从虚无中涌现，打破至古存在坚甲的太一碎片——由于长期将自己传给更多的法师、祭司和哲人，也开始减少。凡事皆有平衡与秩序。这就像无名所期望的那样。
一与众多 无名冰冷心中唯一的真正恐惧，就是元神碎片之力的继承者会像他们的精魂先祖那样联合，驱逐黑暗。而这次将彻底把虚空永远隔绝于世界外。当无名醒来，发现内斗占据了他的孩子时，他又怒又怕。此外，他极其愤怒地看着他们给予和自用的名字。他们在主人休眠的漫长黑暗中跌跌撞撞，失去了方向。现在，许多人并不真了解自己在服侍何物。仅一小撮保留了契约本质，铭记其教诲。最糟的是，他们中许多还接受了一个名字来自称——尼凡迪（灭世者）。唯一不让无名绝望的，是他看到的罗马发生的变化。
法师和科学哲人，不知道一物实为另一物且反之亦然，为信仰争吵不休。庆幸的是，他们已证明自己，并不比那些没被赠予行愿之力的牧群更睿智或透彻。实际上，他在自己远离人类帝国的圣所中，大笑地看着他们自相残杀，就像他于学徒所做的那样——以血洗礼。当他的孩子深陷愚昧泥沼时，他的敌人也执着于证明自己信仰优越的琐碎争斗。然后在这些愚蠢中，发生了件既神奇又可怕的事。
一个被家人和学徒的惨死摧残到悲痛欲绝的法师，超越了普通行愿的界限，堕入了失控的疯狂，再也无法挽回。他存在于自己心中，一个其挚爱仍活着的世界，没什么能改变他。那些试图向他展示其它世界的，被其疯狂所消灭。无名端详着这种情况，因为此类事件可以成为对付他子民的危险武器。但几乎能肯定的是，这种疯子永远无法与其他行愿者联合，对抗他的企图。就这样，一变成了多，但没一个能彼此和谐相处。当罗马终于陷入幽暗纪元的野蛮时，无名不禁感到极其高兴。
背叛 在二战期间，灭世者即将胜利。无名认为，自己已起码是个与服侍的众多非常存在等同的个体。随着时间推移，新成员开始沉迷于他认为其并不属于的事物。然而，这类不幸事件总于他有利。二战结束便是如此。
由于灭世者的强大并愈演愈烈，似乎连九宗和科联的临时结盟都无法匹敌。但当胜利近在眼前时，灭世者却失去了他们的力量，其祭司和祈祷被置若罔闻。多年来他们提出了许多可能答案，从有理有据到荒诞不经皆有，但没一个正确。
那一天，是无名和他的圣贤令他们陷入困境。
为何？尽管无名致力于事业，但他却无法忍受被抢了风头，尤其是如十字架“恶魔”和被与野兽为伍的荒野变形者所恐惧的邪恶精魂这样的插足者。此外，他还看到了它们设计上的诸多缺陷。这是个头脑发热且毫无远见的计划，但这总是堕落者堕落的原因。他运用自己对契约的精通，阻碍了年轻灭世者的力量来源，切断了他们和出卖灵魂的主人的精魂纽带。当宗派和科联法师大开通往之上世界的大门时，他在另一边等候，为自己收割最肥美和强大的灵魂；对其余人，他为力量杀害了他们，享用甜美蜂蜜一样，收割他们身体和精神的魔素，储存起来以后利用。通过只有那些居住在外界之暗的存在才知晓的密道，经过漫长艰难的旅行回到了世界的他，如今已被许多强大化身喂饱。他吞噬了它们，与自身调和，增强了力量，直至成为超越人类、灭世者甚至圣贤的存在。
无名对发生的一切感到满意后，便再次行走于现世。这次他隐藏了自己的赠礼，只给予少数人。终结越来越近，他不想把契约提供给傻瓜或疯子。这些凭自己融入天外之力的人已足够多——一个堕落年代的不幸副产品。
最后几步 数千年的斗争后，无名终于赢了。但还没到庆祝的时候。只有傻子才会端详烤熟的鸭子，看着它飞走后再开动。
攻占慕斯（
译注：慕斯在设定中是水星（墨丘利）的月亮，一块小型灰色陨石，赫尔墨斯于其建立了教授入门法师的墨丘利魔法学院）
虽然赫尔墨斯在慕斯的魔法学院对绝大多数堕落者来说似乎是个无足轻重的目标，但他们中足够多的，都能通过密使被恐吓屈服，逼着参战。当科联偶然袭击秘所时，无名派遣仆从击退了双方，赶走了他们。墨丘利魔法学院在他的终局里相当重要，但他还不能让任何人——甚至堕圣贤——知道如何或为何。变数太多了，他只能相信自己。甚至他众多的黑暗主人，也处在断断续续如死般的沉睡中，并未被告知。
大骗局 棋盘已经摆好，虽然上面的绝大多数棋子都自认是棋手。现在要做的就是打最后一局，其余都会自行归位。无名使用他在一九四五年从战败的灭世者君主上获得的强大力量，将自己的王座传到了九宗心脏，穹界本体，也在它的土地上撕开了个大口子。当然，愚蠢的孩子们自个争论不休，每个都想得到王座，都试图以牺牲同伴为代价增强力量。可悲的是，九宗证明无名是对的，他们陷入了琐碎内斗。
但最重要的是，他们从未质疑位座从何而来。宗派法师接纳了无名宝座。这将是最关键的，因为这么做实际上邀请了他进入穹界，进入肯考迪娅（
译注：穹界最大的城市）的心脏。这是一步险棋，因为他的标记被刻在了椅上，九宗可能以此认出他。但无名对自身诡计和力量充满信心，也知道折中时候已经过去。这是危险赌博，但他相当确定，即使最强大的宗派法师，也会被证明无法以他们骄傲自大的世界观破译符号。
九宗，唯一可能重创无名的敌人，迷失在了自己的争权夺利中。甚至那些鼓吹第十位座就是一体者，也无法长久咽下自己的骄傲，以闭嘴并让他人信仰获胜，来实现这一理想。他的预期一分不差。傲慢执拗的九宗永远看不见死期将至。
至于科联、劫夺者和门派，无名没有时间或精力顾及。此类敌人在他看来，弱小、愚蠢又笨拙。他们会在合适时候陨落，但无名不会为其额外付出，他对这些行愿者的不敬是如此之大。
清算 黯淡宿命的沉重在千禧年末落下。大师陨落，界域消亡，自相残杀。而这，在堕圣贤看来，太完美了。这等灾难由其他法师的傲慢引发。堕落者无需作为来让其发生。但他们在穹界之上看到了所有征兆，高兴地笑着，目睹重锤落下。仅仅两年，一切潜在抵抗都被粉碎，只剩下可怜几个，无法长久对抗无名和他同胞的横扫之力。
预兆已灵验，是时候结束游戏了。
原文：
剧透 - :
The Tenth Sphere and The March to Armageddon
Virtually every Mystic Tradition, Technocratic Convention and Disparate Craft has its own pet theory on what, exactly, constitutes the "Tenth Sphere." These ideas have ranged from Self to the Unified Field Theory to the much-touted Unity. All of these theories were well-thought-out, diligently researched and actively propounded.
Of course, all of them were also wrong.
The Tenth Sphere does not exist. There is no "final truth" that leads to perfection, no easy answer to the innumerable problems that have plagued humanity since it first looked to the world and knew that something more could be. It would be convenient if there were, but Creation rarely conforms to expectations and certainly doesn't go out of its way to make things make sense for the human race. It was up to the Awakened to reconcile these paradoxes for themselves but, instead of accepting that Reality makes its own rules, they made up stories and convinced themselves over the course of generations and centuries that those stories were true. In the case of the Traditions, many did so ln order to lay claim to the Tenth Seat at Horizon, the one that mysteriously appeared years ago, before the devastation of the Reckoning. This delusion made them easy prey for a cunning hunter, for the Tenth Seat belonged to one and one alone, and none could challenge his dominion over it.
Master of The Tenth Seat
Over the course of millennia, he has worn many names. In medieval Europe, they called him the Black Man, patron of witchcraft and devil-worship. (Some believed that he was the Devil.) In the Arabic world, where he abided for many years in days long ago, he went by the name of al-Aswad, the name he gave to those who followed after him as Fallen Oracles. To the Sumerians, he was Ut-Napishtam, the primordial man who was chosen by the gods to survive the Great Flood and was thereafter granted immortality but made to abide apart from all lesser creatures. ln truth, he was all these things and none, the anointed champion of the darkness from beyond Creation, and his True Name is lost to the deep memory of time. Perhaps the most far-thinking human being ever to exist, he was chosen not for his power or his knowledge - for with life enough a man might develop these qualities - but instead for his wisdom, patience and sense of strategy. The gods who raised him up remembered being outcast from the endless shadow in which they abided, shoved away by the hateful presence of something new - existence. They looked on it and were pained by jealousy, for they, though powerful and terrible, could never truly be. That privilege was reserved for all that existed within the hateful light.
Still, these elder things were cunning and resourceful, and they knew many secret paths into Creation, the furrows they had left when they were fragmented and greatly lessened in power through their forceful expulsion. Shards of themselves, the barest fractions of their essence, they poured into the world, seeking those who could hear them and be moved by them. At last, one living thing heard and answered.
What began was a dialogue, perhaps the first bargain forged between man and spirit (if spirits they could be rightly called, who were the avatars of all that which did not exist and yet hungered and hated). In exchange for his aid in helping the elder darkness to achieve being within Creation, they would exalt him above all other creatures. The man sealed the covenant by sacrificing his Name. Carving it upon a stone, he cast his Name into a fire and, as the stone blackened, so too did his skin, his hair and even his eyes, becoming like unto pitch. The shattered fragments of the One who had driven out the elder darkness saw this and were terrified. Acting in fear, these shards descended through the planes, from their high places of power, to unite in just the same fashion with other mortal men. The one who was Nameless, grown much in awareness through his pact, felt this change and, inwardly, he laughed. The so-called "Pure Ones" had sown the seeds of their own destruction.
The Hundred Centuries Campaign Begins
What began thereafter was the lengthy crusade to set the pieces in place for the final, devastating coup upon reality itself. Some key events in the history of the Awakened and the Sleeping alike were of his artifice; some, but by no means all, most or even many. Instead, he acted as he had to, coming out of seclusion only when necessary and otherwise allowing the evils to which humanity was prone to do his work for him. When he found others who were worthy, he offered them his covenant, transforming them into the incarnate vessels of the Darkness Beyond. Including himself, six in all rallied to his cause, the first six widderslainte, poisoned souls who had infected Creation with its unmaking.
It would be many years yet before the Hebrews named them the Qlippoths, the shells of the Sephiroth and the embodiments of the "virtues" of the Tree of Death, but they were now the living reflections of all that which dwelled Outside. The Unnamed had his council of lords and ladies, his hands and eyes, just as he was the hands and eyes of those Beyond.
With clever manipulations, gentle prodding, brutal threats and occasionally a precise application of mind-numbing violence, the six Fallen Oracles, the first Nephandi, worked to sculpt the progression of human history. Still, as the Unnamed himself told the rest, it was important only to guide, rather than force. Men were capable of ruining Creation on their own and needed only the barest direction in doing so. The Unnamed preferred to think of himself as a father, helping his children, all of humanity, to achieve its full, destructive potential.
So it went, as years became decades, centuries and even millennia. The Unnamed and his fellows watched the rise of Sumer and Egypt, Greece and Rome. All those they found worthy of the "gifts" of their lords, they took to hidden places, the tunnels carved by the ferocious expulsion of those Outside, and anointed them in blood, rending their souls and piecing them back together inside-out. This they did in order to teach their disciples the suffering that the primordial ones had endured, and to flense away their human weakness and failing. Those who were strong emerged changed - cruel, hateful, cunning and powerful. Those who were weak did not emerge at all, having wandered out into the vast labyrinths of those furrows, rotting arteries spiderwebbing through Creation, and met those they would call master. None survived the gnawing hunger of those elder beings.
Most importantly, the Unnamed established the standards of the Fallen covenant, whereby human beings might accept the Outer Darkness into their souls and thereby become avatars of its power. In fact, through careful bargains with his masters, the Unnamed made it so that he, of all human creatures, would wield control over the very fabric of the Pact. Whether they knew it or not, from that day onward, all Nephandi everywhere would be subject to the will of one alone. Though he sacrificed much in order to make it so, he felt the trials he endured were well worth it, for his lords were vast and terrible beings, not much given to offering their attentions to such small creatures as mortal men. It suited them well to have a caretaker for their menagerie, and the Unnamed, first among their slaves, was perfect for this purpose. In the end, he became the sole arbiter of their good graces and the hand responsible for dispensing their power. Such authority would later serve the Unnamed well.
The World Changes
As time and times changed, the Unnamed gradually found himself barred farther and farther away from even the most distant shores of Creation. So saturated with his masters' power was he that he was now more a creature of the Void than the Tapestry. Still, he could, when needed, exert his will and walk the dark and forlorn paths of the Earth in order to pass along some shred of hidden and blasphemous knowledge to a promising apprentice of his foul arts. At last, reluctantly, however, he realized that the Fallen Oracles would eventually be all but barred entirely from the world. It was time to pass along the knowledge of the Pact to others, that they might be able to forge the unspeakable bond and deliver unto the Masters their tithe of souls.
The Unnamed chose several men and women for this purpose and gathered them up in the ruins of Ur. It had been 313 years since the birth of a carpenter's son in Galilee. Twenty in all had he chosen, and all were called to stand before the Unnamed in turn. He stared into the eyes of the others and, by day break, six yet lived, all of them now knowledgeable in the ways of the Pact. Tired beyond reckoning through the great expenditure of energy he had made in order to show these children the secrets of his power, the Unnamed retreated into the Void, there to recuperate and rest. While it would be many decades before he would awaken again and trouble the world of men with his tread, he was joyous in the knowledge of the one secret he kept for himself. No matter what else might happen, his victory was now assured.
Those who would bend knee to the service of the Unnamed were many and they hailed from many shores. Some called the darkness "Shaitan," "Ildabaoth," "Ahriman" or "Lucifer." They saw those Outside as gods (or, in many cases, as one god) and prayed to them for power. Many, turning away from the rise of the power of Him who was martyred for mankind, embraced the Pact as a means of denying the Cross. Others, who hailed from quarters far removed from Rome, Persia and the other bastions of civilization, came to understand the darkness as a myriad of spirits. Some worshipped it as ghosts, returned from the Underworld to plague the living with their hatred and their jealousy. In the end, the pure adulation of the Void was tarnished, blasphemed by giving Names to that which existed outside of Adam's knowledge and had never been shaped by the Will of his Word.
So it was that the power of the Fallen diminished even as it grew, for, in Naming their masters, the Fallen gave others the ability to know them and to gain power over them. It was a grievous hurt and one from which the Fallen would not soon recover, but all it really did was prolong the inevitable. The Pure Ones - those who were the scattered remains of the One who had sprung up out of the Nothingness and broken Itself upon the hard armor of those who came Before - began to diminish through the long process of passing themselves along to greater numbers of magi, priests and philosophers. In all things, there was equilibrium and order. This was just as the Unnamed would have it.
The One and The Many
The only true fear that the Unnamed harbored within his cold heart was that the scattered heirs to the power of the Pure Ones might unite as one and, as their spiritual ancestor had before them, drive the Darkness out, this time with such thoroughness as to bar the Void forever from Creation. As the Unnamed awoke to discover the fractiousness that had overpowered his children, he was enraged and horrified. Further, he looked with great wrath upon the Names they had given and those they had taken upon themselves. Stumbling in the long darkness of their masters' sleep, they had lost their way. Many now had no true sense of what it was they served. Only a few kept alive the essence of the Pact and remembered its lessons. Worst of all, many of them accepted a single Name as their own: Nephandi. The only thing that kept the Unnamed from despair was the change he saw taking place in Rome.
Magi and philosopher-scientists, unaware that the one thing was the other, and vice-versa, squabbled over their beliefs. They had proven themselves, thankfully, no more wise or understanding than the chattels that were not gifted with the power of Will. Indeed, within his sanctum far beyond the kingdoms of men, he laughed aloud to see them strike at one another and, as he had done unto his initiates, anoint themselves in blood. While his own children had become mired in ignorance, his enemies had become engrossed in petty struggles to prove the superiority of their beliefs. And then, in the midst of this folly, something both miraculous and terrible happened. One magus, pushed beyond grief by the slaughter of his family and apprentices, strode beyond the boundaries of simple Will and into an unfettered madness from which there was no return. He existed, within his own mind, in a world in which his loved ones yet lived, and nothing could make it otherwise for him. Those who tried to show him otherwise were annihilated by his insanity. The Unnamed pondered this occurrence, for such things could be dangerous weapons against his chosen, but it was all but assured that such madmen would never be able to unite with the other willworkers against his cause. So it was, the One had become Many, none of which could find concord with one another. As Rome fell, truly and finally, into the barbarism of the Dark Ages, the Unnamed could not help but feel a great joy.
A Betrayal
By the point at which the Nephandi stood on the brink of victory during the Second World War, the Unnamed considered himself an entity at least on par with many of the very beings he served. Over time, newcomers had stuck their noses where, in his estimation, they did not belong. Such unfortunate happenings had always been turned to his advantage, however. The conclusion of World War ll was just such an event.
With the Nephandi strong and growing stronger, it seemed that even the temporary alliance of the Traditions and Technocracy combined was insufficient to the task. Still, at the seeming moment of their victory, the Nephandi lost their powers, their prayers and supplications falling upon deaf ears. Many potential answers have been put forward in the years sense, ranging from the sage to the ludicrous, but none was the answer. It was the Unnamed and his Aswadim who laid low the Nephandi that day.
Why? Because, despite his devotion to the cause, the Unnamed could not bear to be upstaged, especially not by interlopers like the "demons" of the Cross and the evil spirits feared by wild shapechangers who rutted with beasts. Further, he saw the many flaws in their designs. It was a plan of great zeal and little forethought, but such had always been the downfall of the Fallen. Therefore, using his mastery of the Pact, the Unnamed struck at the source of the power of the younger Nephandi, severing the bonds of spirit that tied them to the masters to whom they had sold their souls. When the Traditionalists and Technocrats opened wide that door to the Beyond, he waited on the other side of it, harvesting the ripest and most powerful souls for his own. Others, he slew for their power, harvesting the Quintessence in their bodies and spirits like a sweet honey and storing it for later use. Then, by means of the secret paths known only to those who dwelled in the Outer Dark, he made the long and arduous journey back into Creation, now fattened with many strong Avatars. These he devoured and reconciled within himself, growing in might until he became something more than human, Nephandus or even Oracle.
Satisfied with all that had transpired, the Unnamed began to walk the Earth again, this time concealing his gifts and offering them to but few. The end was growing close, and he had no wish to offer his Pact to simpletons or madmen. Enough of those were coming into the Power on their own - the unfortunate byproduct of a wasted age.
The Last Few Steps
Finally, after millennia of struggle, the Unnamed was in the position to win his war. It was, however, no time for celebration. Only a fool counts his enemies slain before he himself has crouched over their cooling corpses and seen their souls escape with their final breaths.
The Taking of Mus
While the Hermetic College Covenant at Mus seemed like a trivial goal to most of the Fallen, enough of them could be cowed into submission through various emissaries to force them into battle. While the Technocracy fortuitously assaulted the chantry, the Unnamed dispatched his servants to defeat both sides and drive them out. The Fors Collegis Mercuris was important in his endgame, but he could not yet allow any to know how or why, not even his Aswadim. Too much hung in the balance to trust anyone but himself. Even the dark and brooding masters of the Unnamed went uninformed in their fitful deathlike slumber.
The Great Deception
The board was set, though most of the pieces upon it fancied themselves players. One final play needed to be made. The rest would fall into place on their own. Using the vast power he had harvested from the defeat of the sleeping Nephandi Lords in 1945, the Unnamed transported his own throne into the heart of the Traditions, Horizon itself, as well as opening a vast rift in its landmass. Surely, the foolish children would argue among themselves, each seeking to claim the chair, each trying to expand their power at the expense of their fellows. Sadly, the Traditions proved the Unnamed right and fell to petty bickering.
Most importantly, though, was the fact that they did not question whence the seat came. The Traditionalists accepted the Throne of the Unnamed into their midst. This would prove most significant, since, in doing so, they essentially invited him into Horizon, indeed, into the heart of Concordia itself. It was a dangerous gambit, for the seal of the Unnamed was graven upon the chair and, by it, the Traditions might know him, but he was confident in his ruse and his power, and he knew that the time for half-measures had passed. It was a perilous gambit, but the Unnamed was quite certain that even the mightiest of Traditions mages would prove unable to decipher the sigil according to anything other than their own pride and self-congratulatory worldviews.
The Traditions, the only enemies who could conceivably mount a credible offense against the Unnamed, were lost in their own games of state. Even those who touted the Tenth Seat as Unity could not swallow their pride long enough to bring that ideal about by shutting their mouths and letting someone else's beliefs win the day. It was no less than he had expected. Arrogant and contrary to the end, the Traditions would never see the death blow coming.
As for the Technocracy, the Marauders and the Disparates, the Unnamed spared no time or effort. Such foes were, to his thinking, weak, foolish and clumsy. They would fall when the time came, but no special effort would be devoted to them, so profound was the Unnamed's disrespect for these willworkers.
The Reckoning
The heavy weight of bleak destiny fell at the waning of the millennium. Masters fell, realms withered and brother turned upon brother. It was, to the thinking of the Aswadim, perfect. Such cataclysms were set in motion by the hubris of other mages. The Fallen needed do nothing to make it happen, though they saw all the signs of it upon the Horizon and laughed with glee to see the hammer finally fall. In a matter of two years, all potential resistance had been crushed, reduced to a pathetic few, incapable of long holding out against the unleashed power of the Unnamed and his Fallen.
The stars were right. It was time to finish the game.
剧透 - :
The Rogue Council
So, who's been sending those messages, telling the Traditions to get in gear and fight the good fight? The Unnamed, of course, from his Fors Collegis Mercuris, located within the Shard Realm of Correspondence. With the ability to send anything, anywhere, untraceably, the Unnamed and the rest of the Aswadim have been trying to get the Traditions to shake off the lethargy of recent centuries. This will cause them to move more openly and expose themselves. Further, such activity among the Awakened can only lead to more Awakenings, fattening Creation with a bevy of ripe and potent souls on which Those Beyond might feast.
Perhaps most importantly, though, the Unnamed understands well that the heirs of the magi and philosophers of long-ago days, the Traditions and the Technocracy, will set their sights upon one another in these grim final hours, allowing him and his chosen to operate unimpeded by unfortunate entanglements. Freed from the threat of conflict with their two greatest enemies, the Fallen are liberated to lay siege to Creation itself.
Important to note is the fact that this scenario assumes that you have been using the events portrayed in Manifesto: Transmissions from the Rogue Council, or, at the very least, that the Rogue Council phenomenon exists and that your characters are aware of it. If not, you'll need to make a couple of adjustments to "Hell on Earth, " but doing so shouldn't be too problematic.
