Object 1002: The Holder of Mischief

In any city, any country - some sullen stranger arrives there and throws herself in front of a passing train. A crowd gathers to gawp at the bloody body. One amongst the crowd gives a slight smirk, straining to hold back fits of infantile giggles. No longer able to contain its pride, it turns away and leaves the scene.

Some rail worker there is being interviewed by a local reporter. The worker claims that only moments before stepping from the platform, the apparently suicidal stranger had been demanding to see some "holder" or something or other. Of course, this particular detail will be omitted from any published articles.

Any Holder, any Object, any set of instructions may be in place to mislead you. Do not be fooled. Know that one roams here and there, making its own frivolously twisted amusement wherever it can. Whilst its deeds may seem to be cruel and treacherous, know that no real malice is meant.

Know that the Holder of Mischief is only playing, having its fun with the eager Seekers.

Perhaps it would have you shout over to some befuddled zoo worker before entering the lions' den, bearing only words as your weapons. Perhaps it would first find entertainment in watching you climb the highest mountain in search of arcane herbs, which would turn out to be nothing more than common catnip. You would then enter the enclosure to see the Holder of Mischief viewing from a safe place, masking its glee with feigned shock as the beasts close in to maul you.

Its japery is varied and relentless. It could deliver instructions which send you scurrying into any hotel reception area for a brief and jarring conversation with staff, then up the internal stairwell and out through some opening high above the city street. Should this be the case, listen for the sound of shrill laughter from behind a darkened window as you plummet past. There would be no immense gust of wind, no passing hawk to snatch you from the air. You would not be caught nor would any manhole suddenly open to admit you with a plunging splash. You would simply hit the ground and crumple.

On other occasions, the trickster likes to reminisce with its classic ploy; it would have you stroll into some ordinary mental institution and approach the front desk, behaving in such a way as to ensure that you are never allowed back out.

Perhaps it would prefer to have you do terrible deeds and be left to rot in a cell alone, forever awaiting the day that some supposed Holder comes by with its supposed key Object. You would begin to worry that you'd not expressed the necessary passion in appealing for the courtroom judge to open the magical gateway into your prison.

Perhaps it would be satisfied by your confinement, or perhaps it would visit in the dead of night to mock and jest through the bars of your cell, gloating over its victory, chiding your gullibility as you are forced to agree. It might try to trick you out of your few remaining comforts. It might leave its whispered laughter lingering to echo inside your empty mind, or lead any normal thought to strange places.

Alternatively, you may simply be met with some trifling task, potentially easy though extremely humiliating. Then, at its end, perhaps a primed grenade would be Object number...

Any text penned by the Holder of Mischief may serve to lead you into great and blatant danger, holding only false hopes for protection. Any word spread forth from its deft tongue could have you wearily searching the earth for some non-existent gateway, investing your time and your mind in nothing of potential gain. You could even be led to some other Seeker's place, or they could be led to yours, all greed and paranoia fed by subtle whispers. Whenever the winds seem to speak, be ready.

Any special set of instructions may deliver you to one of its masterfully crafted funhouses, and perhaps, through it with both life and sanity intact. The Holder of Mischief would be greatly amused to see you struggle and sweat for some worthless trinket with no special properties, held by some hired help in a cheap costume. You might never come to know of such deceit. If ever you have succeeded against the odds in some especially cruel and deranged task, cradle your prized "Object". Listen out for the sound of stifled laughter. It may be coming from around any corner or behind any closed door nearby. If you hear it and can be certain, ditch your worthless trinket and strive to keep a hold of your resolve.

Be aware that the trickster Holder is inclined to set up traps in vacant realms and trial chambers, where any Object has already been found and removed. What it will establish there will be similar to what had been before, seeming to fit with the previously known instructions for the place's trial, though with crucial parts switched around so as to require the opposite action. Following the known instructions for such a place would surely lead to your demise, as Mischief presides from some bygone Holder's throne, rubbing its empty hands together and chortling warmly.

Other remaining Holders will not tolerate its irksome presence in their own domains, though it will still frequent their gateway places to wreak its havoc.

Should you be rigorously following any set of instructions, only to be surprised by an intervention from some unmentioned security guard, run and survive to return at a later date.

Should you intend to seek out the Holder of Mischief, meaning to gain its true Object, you have simply to happen upon any of the false instructions which it spreads, and play along. Draw it close, it will want to watch its plans unfurling. Draw it close and wrap it up in some other plan of your own making. Catch the Holder.

Should you succeed, it will find the situation to be utterly hilarious, applauding readily. Know that the Holder will have learned new techniques from you, and more terrible yet, you will have earned its eternal respect as a worthy adversary. Setting it free would be most unwise. That is, unless you should find yourself beginning to share in its sense of fun. Should you release it and allow the games to escalate, do be careful with your precious world.

You may opt to keep the Holder captive in the hopes that it can be put to use; it would be only too glad to let you win yourself the illusion of control. Better to play safe; know that the Seekers can be easily manipulated.

Whatever you do, be sure to gain the Object. Only the Holder knows where it is stowed and what form it has taken. State an offer of trade; the true Object for the Holder's freedom, or at least for the promise of its freedom. do not be lied to and sent away with some cursed symbol or token. The negotiation will test your wits and perception to their fullest and beyond. Patience will be tested also, keep calm and maintain focus. Begin to gain the upper hand, or appear to do so, and it may assume the form of a loved one, working to convince you that you've lost your mind whilst it begs for freedom. Show stoic resolve. Claim its true Object, do not be deceived. Be the deceiver or enforce fair play.

Old tales tell of a silver serpent with a special venom that would force the Holder's honest compliance by way of the purest pain. Older tales tell of a monstrous wolf which roams in the darkness of some unknown glade. They say it may become vengeful and come hunting. Consider allowing yourself to be found, and using it to your own advantage.

Get yourself the true Object, that which is numbered 1002 of 2538, or be given something else. Hope beyond hope that you have succeeded in your task. Either way, you should try to discover any special properties that the thing might have, and quickly. Be warned that such efforts may place you in danger.

Obtain Objects, Seeker; act on your whim. Bring them together or keep them apart, whichever specific mischief you prefer.

Object 1003: The Holder of Home

In every single family, there is a relative who is estranged, living alone, or dying. Go to them. When they open the door, put your foot in, force your way inside and demand to see "The Holder of Home". A look of melancholy will befit their face, and they will send you out with directions to where you need to go.

As all others before, you will come upon a street like any other. On each side of the road will be standardized suburban houses - except one. One will be a little larger, a little lopsided. A little different. This is your destination.

As you make your way inside, you will begin to lose sight of the exit. Never look back. You will come upon hallways of only darkness and doors, an ever-changing labyrinth only accompanied by silence. Slowly, you will begin to become less familiar with yourself, until you have withered away leaving only a shell of your former body. Never forget who you are, and where you come from. You will hear the roar of the house, and the floorboards will shake below you, but you must remember never, ever to look behind you.

When you enter the antechamber at the heart of darkness a man will close the door behind you. You will be alone. Do not seek the exit, merely stand still. He will tell you that you have not yet found your home, and that your journey has been for nothing. His whispers will tell that you are never accepted, that you are unwanted, and you will be cast out just like those before you.

Upon your neck, he will place a necklace laden with a standard key. The door in front of you will open and you will find yourself on the front porch.

This key is Object 1003 of 2538. It will open your tomb.

Object 1004: The Holder of the Protectorate

You never know what's going to happen in the supernatural world. I mean... All these other Holders and Seekers going to great lengths to protect and obtain (respectively) the Objects - it gets pretty freaky. I guess that's why this Holder decided to change the tides a bit, for whatever reason.

See, all them Holders are supposed to be... erm... "Neutral", or some sort, right? At least, that's what I heard.

Anyway, I was walking along one day... I can't seem to remember the place, it was nowhere in particular, but on a park bench was a sundered piece of paper. I found the second half nearby in a bush, pressed them together, and started reading. It was obliterated after I did what it said, but I can remember just about all of it... It went something like this:

 

The Holder of the Protectorate

Dear Seeker: Congratulations on finding the last testament of my existence. If you are reading this, you are about to discover the method by which I obtained my two thousand Objects with such ease. Be wary, however - it will come at a costly price.

Firstly, find the closest statue. It must be a depiction of either a knight, an angel, or some other figure who has done a form of good deed to guard another. Kneel in front of it, and summon from within yourself the most pure thought you contain, whether it be pure good or pure evil. I do not know which works better; for this task can be performed once and only once.

It would be considered a good thing if the statue did not come to life and immediately remove your skull and spinal cord from off your shoulders, like the Seekers who I goaded before me. If instead there is no reaction, flee the city and never return. To come across another statue in that city's vicinity will not be so merciful as to let you escape. If, however, you experience a bright flash of light and recover your sigh inside of a dark temple, you have passed the first trial. The temple will have large pillars in a circle holding up the weight of the stones the temple was built from. Between the pillars will be small altars with artifacts on display, plaques to name and commemorate them properly.

Within the temple, you may look at, but not touch, any artifact or display. Some are replicas of Objects; some are creations of Seekers gone mad, or depictions of Seekers doing great deeds soulless or otherwise. Peruse the artifacts until you see a small disk, like a bracelet, flat on the sides and round with a large hole in the center. This is the item you are seeking... if you are not here to obtain this Holder's Object. The bracelet is the only thing which can be taken from the temple without negative repercussion; however, upon touching it you will awake wherever you call home with the bracelet attached to your wrist. This bracelet will guard you from any abhorration presented in any Holder trial, and if wielded toward any demon, beast, creature, or otherwise, it will repel the creature and you may continue the trial as if you were accepted without question. I cannot assure you this will gain you an Object from said trials; as the bracelet works only on creatures who are sent to be your assassin as punishment for an error within the confines of a Holder's trial. It protects naught of contraptions, tests, questions, puzzles, or the like. Do not let the strength of this item cloud your mind with arrogance.

As for the Object? Hah, I have no idea. No other Seeker I sent after me had kept their head on straight... quite literally. I suggest finding some patsies to ebb at obtaining the Object, that is, if you do not take the bracelet. Or else, you're on your own.

And, one last note about the bracelet... I would be careful being anywhere near mirrors for the rest of your life. The ring protects against the ethereal... but the Other World will now know who you are outside of those enclosed environments that the Holders create. There were yet creatures that frightened someone like me.

 

Needless to say, I went out and tried those damn directions. Now I've got this piece of enchanted silver on my wrist, and so can you, if you wanted. I went over and grabbed it, marveled at its simple beauty. I woke up in my bed at home, just like he wrote. Boy was I scared shitless when I went up kneeling to that angel though... It didn't work the first time, and I had to drive some 80-odd miles away to try again. But now that I have it... I feel like I need more. A while afterward, I recited the instructions to a Seeker friend of mine, told him to go for the Object instead. I told him out of the corner of my eye I saw these two red eyes staring at me from a distance in the temple's darkness. I told him, "Instead, ask it something - it's the Protectorate; maybe say... 'What secrets are They trying to protect?'"

Turns out, it worked. His lucky day.

He came back from nowhere, out behind the statue, like he just... teleported, right? He showed me the thing he acquired, but he looked afraid of it. "I had to go through some nasty shit for this, man, you better thank me," he said. And I did. I rid him of the horrific memories he mighta seen, he wouldn't tell me no matter how I asked. It was a fairly useless thing other than what it represented, anyway. I would know. I killed him and took it.

My very first Object.

The contact lens case was Object 1004 of 2538. May one day the sights you see from taking either item be cleansed from your mind.

Object 1010: The Holder of Inexistence

With that, the voice went silent for the last time. I took a shuddering breath. This was it. I had crossed out of reality and into conceptual space for this. I had given up part of my ability to feel for it. And now it was time to make a choice, hopefully, the correct one.

I considered the nature of what was before me. Phase Spaces. In math, the term was used to mean something like a plot of all possible outcomes. And based on what it had said... They could be used.

It represented power. Temptation. The one thing a Seeker can never give in to. So, I closed my eyes, shook my head, began to turn around, and...

And I stopped dead. There was more to this. The final Phase Space represented power, yes, but also, the vast responsibility that power brings. The one thing a Seeker can never run away from. Our bond, Our responsibility to the world.

To turn around was to reject that responsibility. To continue forward, to fall to temptation.

I smiled. The riddle was simple, but devious. It had two answers, but illusory, and one impossible choice. I couldn't not continue. I had been told that the entire time. To stop was death.

But maybe, just this once... Stopping was the only correct answer.

I sat down, crossed my legs, and waited.

I didn't have to wait long.

The sky, which had been a combination of piercing blue and absolute dark, changed to ethereal twilight. The void shimmered and disappeared, as did the canyon behind me. The ground became carpeted in grass, and from it sprouted a sea of gray roses. Before me was not a path, but a Way.

The Way of the Rose.

I stood, and took a step. Two ghostlike copies of myself divided from me and simultaneously turned in opposite directions, one to where the canyon had been, the other, toward where the void had been. They were connected to me by lines of thin light, and there were more than two of those. There were hundreds, and I was suddenly sure that they all stretched back to the most important parts of my journey. Where I could have chosen wrongly, but hadn't. These were possibilities, and by seeing them, I was finally sure that I had made it. Finally, I had made my way into the Memories of Akasha.

Finally, I had entered the only true Phase Space there ever was.

I walked slowly, reverently, down the Way of the Rose, further into the Heart of the World. Further into the Soul of the Universe. And, by that token, further into Myself, I suppose.

As I walked, the lines connecting to the other versions of me multiplied... or divided. It was hard to tell. All I knew was, the closer I came to the center of the Remnant, the more there were.

Finally, I came across a hill. As I approached it, I felt, rather than heard, and extremely deep subsonic pulse. As I began to climb, I felt it again. When I reached the top...

I might have felt it once more. But I didn't notice that part of it. This time, I saw it.

What I had climbed wasn't a hill. It was the wall of a crater. Inside of it, instead of the pale gray roses from outside, there was a dark rainbow. Sanguine, ultramarine and emerald roses slowly waved in front of me. At the center was a trinity of roses.

One was Absolute White.

Another was Transfinite Black.

The last was Ultima Gray.

And around the walls of the crater were hundreds of others, people who were me, but weren't. I finally understood the purpose of the emerald knife. I pulled it from its hiding spot, while my others did the same.

Only theirs weren't emerald, but a rainbow of colors.

What happened next was an atrocity.

But in the end, I emerged, holding a knife that was neither emerald nor any other color. Not white, nor black, nor gray. What I held was painful to look at, because it was not any color, but every color.

I knew what came next. I walked to the Center of the Remnant in the Soul of the Universe. As I came closer, the world grew around me, until I was no longer walking through a field of roses, but wading through a sea of them, and finally, as I came to the very Center, creeping through a forest of them.

Finally, I came to a vast wasteland, three immense lines of green in the far distance, fading into the sky, pumping a heartbeat that shook the world, and almost tore it to pieces.

I walked on.

Even after all this time, I'm not quite sure how long I walked, exactly, only that once I had finally reached it, I had aged many, many years. If I had been in reality, I would have died of starvation long ago. Thankfully, it's not like that here.

It's only because of that that I made it this far.

In front of me was a door. To my left, a whispered conversation. On my right, a grinning monster sitting on a throne, talking to someone I couldn't see.

I walked past all of it, and finally, into the Center itself. Under a glass panel, gears within gears churned, spinning out Reality in the Heart of Inexistence. And in the middle was a small dais, with two chairs. One was occupied by a young man in clothes that I assumed were supposed to be fashionable. He was reading a book titled On the Nature of Things. I took another step forward, and he looked up.

"Hello, hello! You're the one! The one who wrote this book, right?"

"If I have, I haven't wrote it yet."

"Then it's a pity. I really wanted to ask you how you came about some of those insights. You revealed things that even I had no idea were a secret!"

"Wouldn't be here if I wasn't good at that," I said.

"True enough. Care for some tea?"

"Absolutely." I walked up to the dais, and took the other chair. A cup materialized out of the air. I grabbed it, and took a sip. Perfection.

"So, what did you come here looking for?"

I took another sip of the tea before answering.

"Hope. Not the emotion. The last thing left in the Box."

"Hope... A worthy goal, I suppose. But why should I grant it to you?"

"This," I said, and held out what had been the emerald knife.

"Let me see that!" the man hissed. I spun it expertly and presented it to him hilt first. He examined it from end to end before letting out a breath.

"I didn't Make this. How did you...?"

"This is the point from which all worlds originate. All lines merge from here. The only hard thing was figuring out how to pick up all the knives while only walking forward."

"Ah. Brilliant. You collected them all in different worlds and came here. But how did you communicate? The barriers are extremely thorough."

I shrugged. "I never set out to communicate in the first place. After I obtained the emerald knife and deciphered its inscription, I decided to come here and trust my others."

"How did you know that they would come?"

"I didn't, but I did. Probability."

"I see," he said, handing back the knife. Very well, then. You pass. I'll make your Hope real."

And as he said it, a simple wooden box appeared. Or rather, a simple-looking wooden box appeared. It was actually an Object of such terrible power that the first who found it had taken the same journey as I had, just to have it sealed away in fiction and myth.

And now I was undoing her work.

Hardly trusting my hands, I reached over to the box, and pushed down on the lid.

Then, I undid the latch. When I felt no struggle, I opened the box. All that was left in it was a black jewel. Hope wasn't in... I had come this far and... But it shouldn't have... Why...

I couldn't help it when I began to cry.

"T-there never was an-any hope to b-begin with, was there?" I choked out.

"Oh no, there was..."

"Then why? Why this? WHY!?"

The man looked down at the ground for a long time before he finally replied.

"Hope was in the Box... But you opened it, and now its power has been broken."

What he said was true. The box had looked clean and new before. Now, it was splintering, rotting, covered in millennia of grime.

"Luckily for you..." the man continued, oblivious of me, "I caught it. It just wouldn't be professional to allow your prize to escape, now would it? Here."

He tossed something squirming and white at me. I caught it, and faster than I could follow, I stabbed it with the knife.

What happened next?

Something that I am bound to never speak of. It is something that can never be told. But let us just say that...

The Knife of Hope is Object 1010 of 2538. I spun it from imagination and unreality equally. But even It seeks the Others.

Object 1022: The Holder of Chaos

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution. When you reach the front desk, ask to see someone who calls themselves "The Holder of Chaos". The worker will suddenly become enraged and violent, spewing threats and insanity. If you move or speak the worker will rip you to pieces; however, if you stand your ground the worker will calm down and ask you to follow them. The worker will take you down a winding flight of stairs muttering under their breath. If you allow yourself to hear the words, they will render you deaf, so do your best to ignore them.

The worker will open a door at the bottom of the stairs and then close it behind you. You will find yourself on a jungle trail nearly covered by the undergrowth. You must follow this trail for the door behind you no longer exists and to try and flee will leave you wandering the jungle for eternity. After what may seem like a mile of walking, you will find a vast temple covered in vines and bleached white bone. A large rusty gate will slowly crank upward allowing you entrance into the temple's dark, damp interior.

You must immediately go inside because if you hesitate, for even a moment, you'll soon realize there's a heavy, wet breathing over your shoulder. Should it be your right shoulder, then you must try to enter the temple with all haste as the great iron gates will soon close leaving you to the mercy of murderous fangs and hateful claws. Should it be your left shoulder, you have no hope of escape and your soul will become the plaything of demons.

If you make it inside the temple, then continue down the corridor. It will be pitch-black but do not worry, for this is the only way. However, if you turn a corner and find a lit candle illuminating two separate paths you must quickly shut your eyes. After you hear a gust of wind, you may open your eyes as the candle has been put out and the path fixed in a single direction once again. You will follow this path for what will seem like hours but do not worry, for this means you have been accepted and are halfway there.

Soon, you will find yourself in a large room filled with the stench of rot and death and lit by flaming braziers. Against the far wall of the room will be a grand throne made entirely of skulls, and sitting upon the throne will be a creature made from the stuff of nightmares. At the moment it acknowledges your existence, you must fall to your knees and bow your head in unquestionable submission. You must keep your eyes to the floor directly below you, for to look upon the creature will trap you in your darkest nightmare for an eternity of suffering and torment. Now prepare your mind, for it will speak with a voice that will threaten to rip the sanity straight from your soul should you listen too closely. It will ask, "For what purpose have you come?"

You must reply in a voice of hatred and malice and scream it out as though you were in the act of murder, "I have come to claim the Chaos!"

The creature will leave its throne and begin to walk toward you and one of two things will happen. If the sounds of the creature's footsteps do not change then close your eyes and say goodbye to your loved ones, for you will surely die. If, however, the sounds slowly calm to a slow, quick pace then you may look up when the footsteps stop.

You will find a small child staring down at you with deep blue eyes that seem to glow internally with a burning hate that will go unchallenged by all in history. It will take your head in its small hands and force you to stare into those murderous sockets, and if you clinch then your head will quickly leave your shoulders. The child's face will turn serious and judgmental and it will ask a single question. "What are you when compared to Chaos?"

The question has only one answer and you must speak quickly lest the child grow impatient and end you without a second thought. You must stare into the child's eyes and whisper, "I am the Chaos."

In the next moment you blink, two things will happen. You will find yourself sitting upon the skull throne and the child will be gone. The second will be the simple wooden mask in your hands. When worn, the mask will allow you to see the beauty, the perfection, and the utter necessity the world has for Chaos.

The mask is Object 1022 of 2538. Never take it off.

Object 1030: The Holder of Maternity

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Go up to the front desk and ask to talk to someone who calls themselves "The Holder of Maternity". The person at the desk will look away and start singing a lullaby. You must keep asking them 'til they answer. When they do, they will take your hand as if they were a lost child. They will lead you to a blue door. If it is any other color, run. DO NOT look back. If it is the blue door, carry on. However, this is your last chance to change your mind. Your guide will ask you one last time if you are sure.

If you are, then just keep walking. You will walk into what looks like the entrance hall of a house. There will be children's drawings on the wall but they will be unusual, horribly depicting the worst events that have happened in the past. As you start walking up the stairs, you will hear children's laughter. If they are singing, hide anywhere you can and wait until they stop. If you do not hide in time, you will feel hands pulling at you, scratching you, pulling you into the ground where you will be taken to a place worse than hell. If you did hide in time or they were laughing, just keep going until you find a door that looks like the one from your bedroom.

You will walk into a room exactly like yours. Your mother will be sitting on your bed. She will pat the space next to her, indicated you to sit down. Just stand where you are. This is not your mother and you will feel that this is not your mother, something is wrong. It might be something obvious, like a missing eye. But maybe it will be less obvious. You might just feel something is different about her. She will stare at you.

You must ask her, "Who gave them life?" She will tell you about how they came to life and their whole life. She will then smile and come up to you. You must close your eyes, otherwise, you will see her body start to rot and decompose and it will drive you mad. Once you feel something has been put into your hand, you can open your eyes. Leave, but do not look at what is in your hand until you are back in the mental institution or halfway house. It is a ragdoll stained with blood.

The ragdoll is Object 1030 of 2538. Don't let the bedbugs bite.