'De Rebus Alchemiae' and Other Assorted Papers

[Agnew]

*On visits to the Crossroads, one is liable to occasionally find the writings of Gustav Fritz left lying unattended or abandoned around the inn. Of course, while the eccentric physician's writings usually prove most useful at keeping an uneven chair from wobbling, a curious individual might find themselves looking for a good rant to read whilst slowly becoming more inebriated.*

De Rebus Alchemiae
'On the Matters of Alchemy'
+A Consideration for the Purposes of Alchemy+
Gustav Fritz
​

When one finds it necessary to set down the plow or sword and to study the field of alchemy, they might often approach from the point of view of how it might prove useful or gainful. This view, undoubtedly, will, whilst useful in the initial entry into the prospects of Alchemical studies and investigations, prove restrictive of the new Alchemist once they reach the stage of genuine study. The objective of Alchemy is, at its core, to improve the condition of mankind (I do not restrict this definition to those of human descent and male gender, but use it in the sense to which it extends to anything capable of reasoning in any capacity and acting, at least in part, according to that reasoning.). This condition, regardless of the nesting of philosophical predispositions as it differs among reasoning beings, is thought to be remedied from a state of understanding. Understanding, however, will often be misinterpreted for consciousness of attributes of the world. Understanding, along with the consciousness of attributes of the world, requires an appreciation for both the utility of knowledge and the effects it may have on both immediate and distant posterity. While an Alchemist may publish a work on the improvement of a poison's effectiveness, he does not demonstrate understanding without fully acknowledging and taking responsibility for the knowledge to which he has exposed the world. The burden of knowledge on an Alchemist is not to be taken lightly, for the simple restriction of knowledge will allow for its discovery elsewhere, losing the Alchemist's potential to intercede in the ethical arguments regarding said discovery. When an Alchemist discovers something, they are obligated to share it with posterity in tandem with the most sound ethical argument they might form in regards to their discovery. An Alchemist undergoes the process of understanding out of duty to himself and posterity, if not to bring about new observations, then to bring about an ethical onus regarding known observations.

Of course, Alchemical studies will most often endeavor to yield new worldly observations and ideas. These are, most definitely, to be differentiated in any and all instances. The objectivity and humility of an Alchemist are vital to the formation of not only his own ideas, but the ideas which later or contemporary Alchemists might derive from his observations. The objective facts are always to take precedent over an Alchemist's preconceived notions, lest they become a teller of lies and mislead others. As such, an Alchemist should endeavor to record that which is done and observed in as much detail as possible so that later Alchemists may possibly, armed with ideas or tools unavailable to previous iterations of Alchemy, explain their evidence in new ways and work to rectify uncertainty in their postulations. Rhetoric, therefore, is a vital tool to the Alchemist. Once one perceives, they must interpret as best they can. Being limited entities, an Alchemist's objectivity allows him to overcome the limitations of either his rhetoric or observance. This is the power of posterity in Alchemy, as with any other art.

*The idly scribbled rantings of the physician seem to end here, though he is liable to misplace another paper sometime in the future, perhaps with utterly different views than before. The fact that he attempted to doodle a duck in the margin may indicate that this was not necessarily considered a musing of the utmost importance.*

 

[IceandFire]

*High-five*

 

[Elz]

I want to see the duck scribble.

 

[Agnew]

*This sheet is more crumbled than folded, lying in a back corner, as if cast away out of partial disgust. This sheet is scrawled at odd angles, as if written on a whim and reconsidered later. Though it is not signed, it appears to be Fritz's handwriting.*

"I had a dream. I was rolling a stone up a steep incline. It was perfectly round, black, shining...it imposed itself in my sight like the moon in the night sky. I attempted to look about, but found my sight drawn to it. I was in some sort of stone corridor. It was not dark, but no torch or window was apparent. The stone was heavy, so heavy...I feared that letting it go would surely allow it to roll over me. I continued to roll, but the corridor seemed to spiral upwards forever, gently turning as I rolled. I looked into the black onyx of the stone, but saw a face I did not recognize, a blank face. It seemed uncaring, as if someone had lived all their life in a single room, free of all knowledge and harms of the world. My back grew sore, my legs tired. I shook, and the stone became heavier as I rolled. I was sure that reaching the top would bring me rest, that I should not be crushed.

I rolled for what seemed like hours, going higher and higher, but never seeing any change in this corridor. The stone grew harder and harder to push. Finally, I felt my arms failing, the stone overpowering me, this onyx mass bearing down upon me like some insect underfoot. I wheeled around, hoping to brace it against my back until I could regain my strength. I looked up from the floor and was shocked.

What had been a constantly curving slope, what I stood on, was now a single, straight, perfectly level corridor. I now stared off into a pinpoint of light, impossibly far away down the suddenly straightened corridor. The stone became nothing as I stared, attempting to make out the pinpoint of light off in the distance of this seemingly endless view.

Then I felt the stone rolling over me, not much caring about my new perspective. I awoke sharply as I dreamed vividly of a crunching sound."

 

[NIAH]

Moar. Give it to us now.

Really though, this is quite good.

 

[Agnew]

*Another sheet of paper might be found under a table, as if dropped and forgotten. It is written in Fritz's handwriting.*

De Necessitati Structurarum
'On the Necessity of Buildings'
Gustav Fritz
​

As the endless march of time crawls on, we beings of sentience feel in necessary to effect change in our world through the construction of various structures. Of course, the basic need for shelter in some form of residence is met quite easily by our available means, so structures of more symbolic or faithfully fueled interests come about as a logical progression. Everyone needs something to live in, or they are liable to die of exposure. Of course, restless persons have been known to set up more temporary homes in wagons and tents, though this has fallen out of fashion with the advent of such structures as hovels, cottages, mansions, and castles. Now, as stated before, it is seen that the basic needs of shelter are quickly met once a person can hide from the wind and weather. However, there remains an undeniable urge among any beings capable of building to do so, largely in the form of superfluous structures and additions to original settlements. This ennui with the present state of one's residence is perfectly normal, though it is best reigned in to prevent to ruinously expensive construction of exceedingly extravagant edifices.

As interaction with the gods has increased over time, the largely intangible nature of many matters of faith has driven those with hands for building to construct monuments and temples to the gods they trust. Gods, in return, have been seen to take a distinct note of these structures, creating a yet-unexplained symbiosis of reverent temple building and divine visitation. At present, guidelines are mostly related to the style chosen by the builders of other shrines, using a few colors as themes. Perhaps there might be further study in the most effective architecture by which to please a chosen deity, thereby generating efficient usage of materials and a more thoroughly *pardon the pun* structured system of worship. While the involvement in the values of the intended devine remains at the forefront of worship, perhaps a higher level of specificity will benefit the hopeful ideas of posterity.

 

[Valonyx]

Gotta love your use of random french, bby xD

 

[Agnew]

*A sheet of a similar type of paper might be found on a seat by the bar in the crossroads. It might be noted that the handwriting appears slightly neater than Fritz's erratic and accentuated writing, with no identifying signature to be found on the page.*

De Rebus Divini

On the matters of the divine
A consideration on the concepts of godhood

When one finds it necessary to dictate to themselves and others a systematic worldview philosophy, they must approach the subject of the gods themselves, and how they might be classified. This view, undoubtedly, will, while being useful in characterizing such a view of the world, become restrictive of the philosopher as they reach a fuller understanding of how things truly are. The objective of classifying what is or is not divine is, at its core, to understand both the role the gods themselves play as well as what we as mortal beings should partake in to improve our condition of relations with said deities. However, this classification differs among reasoning beings, as the understanding of such values are often misinterpreted by those seeking to find such. While someone known to be of the divine controls a certain domain, being that this being is omnipotent in its design and nature, should they not also be the force of that certain domain, or even such that they exist through such domain? Is the "god" of fire not only the entity that controls such, but also is the force of fire, as well as fire being of that same divine being? A deity, those who are the supreme beings of our existence, should be in such position that not only should it be futile to move against them, but we as mortals should find ourselves without even the will to contemplate doing so.

Of course, studies and accounts have yielded that these situations are not the case. These claims have, most definitely, been refuted by mortals. Beings of what should be omnipotence, have been cut down by mortal, inferior beings. Despite doctrine claiming otherwise, we have also seen inferior creatures rise and take the title of "god" for themselves as well. The preconceived notions of what is commonly understood to be divine now gone, we must then reassess the conditions for which something is considered "godly." Once one perceives these facts, they must interpret as best they can, and in doing so must come to these conclusions. "Gods" can be born; they can die. They have powers and abilities beyond that of the average mortal, but are not all-powerful - or at least not enough to stop their own demise. What then, stops a person of powerful ability from becoming a god, if anything at all? Once one has made these conclusions, it is simple deduction that leads one to understand that the difference between the divine and the mortal is simply one of worship. Mortal beings worship divine beings. It is through the actions of the flock that the shepherd is given his meaning. Subsequently, the loss of such praise by mortals may prove to be a way to remove a deity from their position, though violence seems, at least up till now, a far more effective and permanent method of removal. In either case, what answers have been gained cause one final conclusion to become perfectly clear. The gods do not hold mortals down in place, but rather, the populous is what creates, sustains, and ultimately what destroys the divine.​

 

[Agnew]

*A sheet lies under a seat, apparently idly sketched.*

 

[Agnew]

*Another appears to have served as a makeshift napkin. An orange beard hair or two would fall away as it was picked up.*

 

[Agnew]

*Fritz, whilst in the middle of apparently composing a letter to a friend, would be called away for his medical services. While apparently completed, the items would be left unattended an appear as such. The recipient is uncertain*

 

[NIAH]

I love the new medium you're posting these in. And very, very interesting.

 

[Agnew]

Thanks. I got one of those graphical tablets on a sale and figured, "What the hell."

 

[Agnew]

*This message has been folded and stuck halfway into a gap in the floorboards. One might start to wonder what Fritz does with the papers which he doesn't discard or abandon.*

De Rebus Consummatibus
About Grown Things
Gustav Fritz
​

Though I most definitely do not wish to make any prods, jabs, or otherwise hostile verbal action towards the proprietor of this establishment in which I spend so much of my time, I feel it necessary to direct attention to things which grow. I don't necessarily mean the flowers, bushes and trees of the forest or the wheat in the field, but, more specifically, the moss on the rocks and the mold on the bread. Though such life seems prevalent throughout our world, we seem to pay it little more attention that how to make its growth inhospitable. While we know moldy bread to usher in ailment, we've little idea of precisely how such things come about. We see moist wood eaten away by strange black substances, but only respond by replacing it with dry wood. We, as a collective mind of knowledge, must recognize the nature of these substances which demonstrate life. By their pervasiveness, I postulate that such organisms, while unseen, must somehow be present to an extent which we might not normally perceive. Their tendency to grow with great regularity simply indicates that their presence is widespread, if not constant, in most places without careful precautions taken to make them inhospitable, them being places intentionally made devoid of food stuffs and moisture, usually through application of intense heat. Perhaps, then, there may be groups of similar beings which we do not see. Perhaps we only perceive large groups of them in the same way that one might more easily spot of large city than a small farmstead when viewed from a mountaintop. Though means of perceiving these beings will likely prove indirect and likely alchemical, I propose, at least until a time of greater knowledge of such, that anyone attempting any experiment of any scale remain conscious of the potential for unseen life, however small. Until such life can be observed in smaller measures, there remains a necessity to assume its presence without explicit measures taken in opposition to such.

 

[Agnew]

*This one sits under one of the tavern's open doors*

 

[Agnew]

*This page might previously have been mistaken for a place mat on one of the tables.*

 

[Smurf]

..It seems someone has been collecting these papers.~

 

[Agnew]

*It'd seem that another paper was left, though it clearly received better care than most other papers.*

Who's /that/ supposed to be?​