U-ARCADIA01 (Aug 20, 2022)
Puzzle
"Eager hands of the Pale."
Knowledge – F | 1 Word
Clue
Hover over the clues if you require!
Clue 1: Unfortunately for you, not even close to a direct quote. Something mentioned in Folie a Deux that served the Pale.
Clue 2: Locked up in the Black Thorn.
Clue 3: Or, if that doesn't work, 'known for corrupting things and working with the Pale'.
Answer and Explanation
Answer: Zaaltsijuls
Explanation: In SB501 of Folie a Deux, it says that Zaaltsijuls was predominately locked up in the Black Thorn, but before that, they were known for corrupting things and working with the Pale.
Summary of Receipt
Summary
Transcript
Abysmal.
It was always abysmal in Arcadia. Everything was abysmal. The skies were ink-black, the land cracked and erupted with violent magma, and the waters of Arcadia—the very waters of which Demiurge loved so much—were tainted with the endless and undying spawn of the Pale. The only thing that brought hope to Arcadia these days was the ever-bright—if occasionally prideful—Lucifer.
Arcadia was an ever-changing land. It had been home to many people since Demiurge began the Universe so long ago. Of course, most of these people were made and then unmade in an instant. Demiurge was constantly unsatisfied with his work, something Lucifer had picked up on rather quickly. The people, the mortals, who lived in Arcadia now—they were the last creation before the Pale was born.
Funny little things, Lucifer thought to herself as she strode through the ramshackle streets of the largest remaining settlement in Arcadia. Satan had built a fine city for Demiurge's remaining faithful few, even if it was perpetually under siege. Demiurge had confided in Lucifer that he was uncertain what combination of particles struck together to form these funny little mortal sparks—Demiurge never seemed to write anything down. However, according to him, if the Pale had not been born and had everything continued as it always had, he likely would've destroyed these sparks as he had the rest.
They were not perfect, far from it, but they were interesting. Lucifer felt particularly drawn to these little mortals as, like her, they were never intended to be. They simply were. As Lucifer walked through the town, her mind drifted. Her eyes scanned the little mortals who scurried about, each one a testament to Demiurge's reluctant creativity. She vastly preferred these creations to the other life Demiurge had decided to keep.
Up, way up high, beyond the boundaries of the Universe itself, were the strange and eerie remains of a Universe before this one. Some failed attempt by another Archon, or set of Archons, who had all but disappeared, leaving behind only strange, incomprehensible ruins of their attempts to build a stable Universe. Liminal rooms that felt like they should have more use than they ever seemed to have, hallways that looped in on themselves, haunting vignettes of a life none of anyone here had ever lived. Worst of all? They were empty. So, very, very empty.
…Except for the blinding white rooms Demiurge had staked out for himself and his other creations. Undying reflections of Demiurge himself. Not quite Archons, but certainly not mortals. Lucifer had become well acquainted with these strange, unfeeling, undying bits and pieces of Demiurge and, in fact, had befriended a few. Not many. Though their personalities differed immensely, Demiurge's other creations far out-lived the mortals below and to the unageing child of Archons, often made better lasting companions.
"Lucifer." The voice of Demiurge's most favorite creation, Metatron, boomed into her mind—smashing any thoughts that may have been her own. "Return above. We are preparing for the next offensive against the Pale."
Lucifer sighed, and with her resplendent blue wings, flew way above the turmoil below. She hovered for just a moment, watching her siblings Leviathan and Beelzebub doing their best to contain the Pale's spawn before they too shot up to heaven.