Organization
Description:
Put most simply, the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece (often called “Timekeepers”) is an organization of scholars, teachers, engineers, and explorers dedicated to studying the artifacts and ruins of the past. A fundamental Timekeeper belief is that many things may be unknown, but nothing is unknowable. The key to understanding the powerful artifacts built by the ancient ones who came before us lies in observation, experimentation, and very detailed notes.
The Timekeepers understand that their profession can be a dangerous one, however, both to themselves and the wider world. Every junior scholar, grease monkey, lecturer’s aid, and cartographer’s apprentice is taught the lesson of the lamp: The flame that brightens the darkness and warms the winter can just as easily consume the page and burn the flesh. But unlike their allies in the Order of the Immovable Anchor, Timekeepers do not fear the discoveries of the past. They rejoice in them.
The artifacts and machines and creatures built by those long ago are proof that mortal minds once understood the universe well enough to shape it to their will, and the mission of the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece is to reclaim the lost knowledge of the past and ensure it’s wielded responsibly moving into the future.
Emblem:
A black isosceles triangle with eight glyphs running along its edges (24 different ones in total). Inside the triangle is a toothed circle, and inside the circle is a vertical bar with notches at the 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, and 5 marks.
The triangle represents the mountain where the Eternal Timepiece was first discovered, and the 24 glyphs are the the Clockmakers’ syllabary, the ancients who built the Eternal Timepiece. The toothed circle represents a gear, one of the many kinds used in the ancient clock’s mechanical computers, while the notched bar is marked with the first six of the Fibonacci numbers, keys to the Clockbuilders’ mathematics.
Motto:
“Nothing is Unknowable, Merely Not Yet Known”
Prominent Figures:
1028 Inveterate Archivist
The common view of Timekeeper scholars sees them as academics nestled in caves of datacubes, or in the more romantic mode, as brilliant-but-clumsy researchers who suddenly spy a connection between two disparate pieces of information that’s bound to change the world. In reality, Timekeeper scholars (also called “mindmappers” after a graphical method of visually organizing data to better understand it) are expected to be methodical, not easily bored, and passionate about their chosen subject matter. This doesn’t mean they don’t count geniuses among their number, however. One of the most brilliant mindmappers of the current age is, for example, 1028 Inveterate Archivist.
Often referred to simply as “1028,” xe is a neuter humanoid of middling height, a calm temperament, and an organic composition. Xir only “distinguishing” physical characteristics are xir eyes (which appear to be solid steel spheres in xir eye sockets, though do not affect xir sight in any way), as well as xir utterly black skin (which appears to be made of some kind of organic fractal nanotubing).
1028 originated as an experiment by an unknown organization, and while xir memories of that time are inaccessible—thought to be a result of whatever explosion destroyed the laboratory and facilitated xir escape—1028 remembers that the project’s purpose was to create “Paragons”: sane and stable individuals that excelled in a single field, both physical and mental. Xe also remembers that xe wasn’t the only Paragon, but xe can’t remember anything about the others in particular.
As can be discerned from xir name, 1028’s specialty is the organization of information, and there is no Timekeeper that hasn’t murmured a paean to 1028’s system at one point or another. No matter how exotic the media nor degraded its message, 1028 Inveterate Archivist is up to the challenge of storing and categorizing it, which is why most Timekeepers call the organizations archival system the “I.A.” (Also, it should be noted that there is a long-running betting pool which may be claimed by the first person to stump 1028 on the location of an individual record. 1028 has yet to lose a challenge.)
chaNamarand Seko
Although Timekeeper engineers are commonly called “clocktenders” due to the link between the organization’s origins and the Eternal Timepiece, the interest of these engineers often extends far beyond mere timekeeping. Clocktenders not only maintain the many devices, artifacts, and Wonders used by their fellow Timekeepers, but also use their skills and knowledge to modify preexisting Wonders, as well as study the principles behind their operation and create entirely new ones (an ability viewed with great suspicion by even the organization’s closest ally, the Order of the Immovable Anchor).
Starting out, would-be clocktenders begin their training as grease monkeys, tool gofers, and perform other menial duties, though their labor is punctuated by sessions of intense hands-on training as well. Apprentices soon learn the different qualities of materials, capabilities of tools, the methods by which a schematic may be created and interpreted, and more. To ascend to the ranks of true clocktenders, an apprentice must first prove themselves capable of distilling the possible from the merely probable, and secondly, transforming the possible into the actual. The person they have to prove this to? chaNamarand Seko.
Originally a Namarand nomad of the Guldavi Waste, Seko was exiled at the age of seven (thus the cha- suffix in front of her clan-name) after her curiosity compelled her to try and repair the water still at a brackish oasis. Seko’s failure destroyed the still completely, and for the crime of willfully questioning the beneficence of the Water God, she was cast out. On that day, Seko learned two lessons. The first was that one cannot fully trust what one does not understand, and second, while the consequences of one’s failure may be wisdom, they may also be death. (As the welded sign says above her door, “Measure Twice, Cut Once, and Trust Nothing.”)
After creating the schematic for their masterwork, would-be clocktenders must bring it to chaNamarand Seko, who will interrogate them about it. There are rumors that this is the test itself, and that no matter what one builds after this conversation, Seko’s mind has already been made up, but nothing officially supports this conclusion. Seko’s questions are often piercing, and no question asked of her about one’s masterwork will be answered. The clever apprentice will be sure to record the questions asked of them, however, a key flaw has been discovered by many an apprentice who thought twice about what seemed to be a stray observation by Seko at the time...
In addition to her duties as the valve through which apprentices become engineers, chaNamarand Seko dabbles with a variety of musical instruments of her own design and construction. A concert featuring her inventions is as much about the mechanical workings of the objects that make music as the music itself, and tickets are highly sought after by Timekeepers and outsiders alike.
Important Organization Facts:
Revelation in the Mountain
Many years ago, a group of scholars and explorers stumbled upon a trove of ancient knowledge hidden deep within a mountain. Their key discovery was of an ancient Wonder, one that had been keeping time for innumerable ages, which they called the “Eternal Timepiece.” The device, as well as the educational materials found within the mountain, was proof that “mere mortals” were capable of creating Wonders, and that no matter how arcane or bizarre the world may seem, with the correct tools, it is possible not only to understand it but also shape it as well.
This was quite a heterodox position to take at the time—common sense, people believed, said that the bizarre artifacts found in ruined facilities were obviously placed there by malevolent gods as temptations for the foolhardy, or they were gifts from trickster spirits, or they were the pride of the ancient ones made manifest in the world, that sort of thing. The idea that a person—a mere mortal like anyone else—could have ever been capable of creating such puissant devices was a view only espoused by the ignorant or the deranged.
So when the Timekeepers’ founders announced their discovery, that a mountain fastness held evidence to show that while their theory was heterodox, it was also correct, the powerful did not receive the news in good humor.
Hide the Flame, Lest Others Quench It
Countless rulers of structures political, religious, commercial, and more claimed some measure of legitimacy from the unknowable origins of their Wonders. These rulers used their supernatural possessions and holdings as proof of their right to govern, claiming that they had been chosen by the gods to do so, or bested the spirits of the Other Side for the honor, that sort of thing, Many of them, no doubt, believed the stories that they told. But the idea that the ineffable marvels of the world could be explained as the inventions of mere mortals was untenable, and as the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece wouldn’t stop spreading that “lie,” the powers of the world vowed to stamp them out. And so began the Years of Darkness.
The Years of Darkness
During this time, any accused of being a member of the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece faced terrible persecution, especially due to the fact that being accused of being a member was as being one, no matter the proof, and countless innocents lost their lives for the price knowing too much about geometry, for peering too deeply into the well of the past, or for having an interest in old ruins. Many Timekeepers hid in these old ruins through the Years of Darkness, trusting that few would stumble onto them accidentally if they dwelt deeply in the heart of “tainted” lands, for fear of being thought a Timekeeper themselves.
Necessity and hostile conditions honed the critical thinking skills and encyclopedic memories of many Timekeepers as they struggled to stay alive during the Dark Years, but for every artifact found or discovery made, the candle flames of far too many brilliant souls were snuffed out as well.
As for the Eternal Timepiece, it was thought fitting to safeguard it from those who would destroy what they do not understand through the use of time itself—the Founders detonated the only ten-star Obsidian Egg ever to be discovered right next to it. The area of effect was quite small, barely covering the whole of the hastily cleared-out chamber, but the first Timekeepers ensured that the device that inspired their organization’s’ birth would still be accessible to whosoever found them in the future, no matter how the War Against Reason fared.
Timekeepers Out in the Open
Eventually, attitudes towards the Keepers of the Eternal Order softened, with many seeing the learned first as valuable resources, and then as forces for progress. True, “common knowledge” says Timekeepers worship the Eternal Timepiece or the Founders who kept it safe. Though this misconception is corrected whenever it is found, Timekeepers agree that it’s an understandable position—they do venerate the ancient ones who built the Eternal Timepiece and the vault to protect it, as well as everyone who kept the metaphorical lamp of knowledge alight during the Years of Darkness, founders and regular Timekeepers alike.
To honor these sacrifices, Timekeepers use the syllabary and spoken language of the ancient ones as their official written and spoken tongue. (It also helps that faculty with this language makes comprehending historical artifacts and ruins somewhat easier, of course.) While few people besides the Timekeepers themselves speak or write Ancient as their native tongue, its usefulness in trade and diplomacy have caused it to spread quickly as a second language, much to the organization’s delight. After all, communication is key to understanding, and understanding is key to the Timekeepers.
Also key to the Timekeepers—ensuring that the legacy of the Clockmakers and the Founders does not wind down, but continues every onward, just as the Eternal Timepiece itself. To that end, there are as many explorers and teachers among the organization as there are engineers and scholars. Many a small community owes their understanding of hygiene, or the literacy of their children, or the repair schematics for certain devices to the Timekeepers who shared that knowledge with them.
Adventure Hooks:
Lessons Lamplighters Do Not Want to Teach
The PCs have been asked by the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece to assist one of their number in the humble double-village of Llaidwithyn-Garn (so long as one stands on the eastern shore of the Great Rill, of course, or else it’d be referred to as Garn-Llaidwithyn). The individual in question is a synthetic being called “Adhoc” who’s served as the double-village’s only lamplighter after their last teacher passed away. By all accounts, Adhoc has been very successful in convincing the locals the virtues of education, but has recently reported issues with the spread of Nightrager ideology in the area, especially among some of her more easily influenced students.
When the PCs reach Llaidwithyn-Garn, they spy a group of Nightrager toughs following a thin woman who is very pointedly not acknowledging them. From the lamplighter scarf around her neck (a tessellation of black and white hexagons), this is clearly the person who they’ve been sent here to see. Before the PCs can intervene, however, Adhoc rounds a corner where they can see her, but the toughs cannot.
In an instant, she transforms everything from her clothing to her posture to her species. The underside of her scarf is a pale grey, which she throws over her shoulders as a sort of shawl as she seems to lose a foot of height. Her face undergoes an even more impressive transformation, with her features shifting and warping to accommodate a sucker-like mouth full of sharp hairs as well as a trio of serrated horns that sweep up from above her eyebrows. When the toughs finally turn the corner to see their quarry fled and their only sport a notoriously touchy (and venomous) Dliglossamal, they turn back the way they came, now raising their voices in a chant-song as vile as it is out of tune.
After a moment, Adhoc spies the PCs and heads their way, reverting back to her original form as she does so. “Oh,” she says, “I’ve been expecting you. Come to the schoolhouse and I’ll explain the issue.” It turns out Adhoc does need help with the Nightragers, and she is worried about violence, but not in the way the PCs might expect. “I was originally programmed for infiltration and assassination,” she says, her hands shifting into blades and needles as easily as someone else might crack their knuckles. It seems that Adhoc wants the PCs to handle the gang because if she does, she’ll kill them all, and she wouldn’t be able to bear what that’d do to her students.
Podilious Cristilamin Nwahr and His Last Crusade
According to Podilious Cristilamin Nwahr, no explorer nor adventurer has ever traveled as far as he has, escaped death as many times as he has, or smoked as many pipes of foul-smelling geargrinder as he has. If one were to ask his fellow farseekers of the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece, it would seem that, despite his grandiloquent claims, Nwahr actually is quite the explorer. Or at least, he was. The farseeker’s age is catching up with him, and the PCs have been asked to accompany the “living legend” on what will be his last expedition before he retires to write his memoirs.
The trip will take them to a ruined facility half-buried beneath a glacier. And while the ancient machines and dead modular robots are certainly fascinating, things get hairy when some sort of subterranean quake drops a hundred tons of ice and rubble on their only way back out. Nwahr is confident that heading deeper into the facility is the way to freedom, and unable to shake the intractable old explorer’s confidence in his assertion, the PCs follow along, careful not to lose their footing on the greasy little pellets of amethyst scattered here and there the floor.
As they descend—the frequency of the pellets slowly rising the deeper they go—Nwahr displays a casual mastery of several ancient languages (not to mention a seemingly endless repertoire of dirty jokes), although it’s the former skill that most comes in handy when he suddenly stops, brushes aside a small drift of pellets with his foot, and reveals a blue enamel starburst set in the floor. The old man’s knees pop as he hunkers down and traces seemingly random scratches in the surface of the starburst with the tip of his finger. He mumbles to himself for a moment before nodding, standing up again with a grimace, and says, “Welp, I don’t plan on starting an apocalypse today, so you listen up and listen good.”
It seems that the starburst was the ancient equivalent of an industrial warning sign, and while Nwahr’s lllOOOooooooOOOlll is a little rusty, he’s fairly confident that their whole situation has gotten much dicier than he first thought. First, the little “pellets” are actually pearls of bwell suspended in a protective matrix. Bwell, it seems, has the unique property of converting regular old water molecules into an incredibly energy-dense fuel (if a little prone to spontaneous explosions), with a transformative property that propagates through any nearby water molecules like a fire through dry tinder. Second, the ancients weren’t morons—to prevent bwell from reacting with the ambient moisture in the air, it’s suspended in an incredibly stable protective matrix. That matrix isn’t perfect, however, as it starts to degrade when exposed to freezing temperatures for too long.
Nwhar’s frosted breath should as he makes this statement should hammer the point home for the PCs. “Third thing we know is that these pellets have been created recently, what with their slipperiness, and based on the number we’re seeing, I’d guess some automated bwell-maker is still operating at full steam.” The old explorer’s face looks haggard a moment before his expression changes to one of resolve. “We’re going to have to find it, shut it off, and then figure out a way to safely dispose of these pellets, and fast, because if one of them converts that glacier up top...the whole world goes kablooey.”
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