An Old Explorer Reporting
Posted: Wed Jul 09, 2025 5:46 am
Shorah, everyone.
As a kid, I heard the stories. An ancient underground civilization, mighty and proud, brought low by hubris and tragedy. A lone survivor, his spouse, their two children, and a MYSTerious island where "dreams are as portals" and books could take one to new, fantastic places. I consumed those stories over and over again--the sons' betrayal, the father's megalomania, the forgotten prisoner's madness, the gifted daughter kidnapped; the fall of D'ni and the First Restoration.
I don't know how my friend first found his way to the Cavern, but he told me all about it. I was in college, without money to blow on a trip to New Mexico, but... again, college--not a time known for great decision-making. And so I took my first breath of cavern air, nearly twenty years ago (it's hard to believe it's been that long).
It was a time when the Guild of Greeters was a powerful group, organized, respected, keepers of a wealth of knowledge. I joined up with them and spent many an evening in their neighborhood and the Tokotah Courtyard welcoming newcomers to the Cavern in my blue shirt and bare feet. D'ni lived, "growing, breathing, alive again". Even the DRC returned, with new ambitions and new funding. I was rarely present for the really important happenings, but I kept up with the news coming up to the surface and spreading through the Cavern.
And then it all fell apart. The DRC left for the final time. And the Guild, unable to accept yet another loss, collapsed under the weight of pride and bitterness.
Since then, I've made mostly sporadic visits to the Cavern. My Relto book may gather dust for months at a time until I hear the Call again, and I feel that familiar tingle on my hand as I press it to the page. My visits have been increasing in frequency the last few years. With no group to attach myself this time, I decided to learn as much as I can of the events that led to where we are today, and to aid the Guild of Archivists here and there. History has been a hobby of mine. There was much I'd missed, or only heard about in whispers. The books (the ordinary ones) and records in Chiso Preniv were eye-opening, not only because of the events, but the motivations. The factions. The conflicts I never saw. I dug deeper, going Beneath the surface.
That's how I learned his name: Harlan Mason. I can't say I knew him--we're not from the same tradition, and the world is a big place. But I knew people like him. Arrogant, self-righteous, sanctimonious, narcissistic--everything we're taught not to be. I don't know what he did to lose his credentials. I don't know much about the New Seed or what he tried to accomplish. But I knew I had to stay. I can't undo the damage he's caused; I'm not nearly that important. At least I can be present in a more helpful way than he was.
For now, I've claimed a tiny apartment (at least, I think it was an apartment?) in the Belari district, if I'm reading my maps correctly. My backpacking supplies from my college days have certainly come in handy. Did you know you can link with a bicycle if you know how to carry it? Not only do I use it to explore the city, but it's great for charging my "hand" crank portable generator down here.
There will always be a part of me that's still a Greeter, even as I move on to archiving and researching. Let me know if I can assist with any of your projects, or you need a listening ear.
As a kid, I heard the stories. An ancient underground civilization, mighty and proud, brought low by hubris and tragedy. A lone survivor, his spouse, their two children, and a MYSTerious island where "dreams are as portals" and books could take one to new, fantastic places. I consumed those stories over and over again--the sons' betrayal, the father's megalomania, the forgotten prisoner's madness, the gifted daughter kidnapped; the fall of D'ni and the First Restoration.
I don't know how my friend first found his way to the Cavern, but he told me all about it. I was in college, without money to blow on a trip to New Mexico, but... again, college--not a time known for great decision-making. And so I took my first breath of cavern air, nearly twenty years ago (it's hard to believe it's been that long).
It was a time when the Guild of Greeters was a powerful group, organized, respected, keepers of a wealth of knowledge. I joined up with them and spent many an evening in their neighborhood and the Tokotah Courtyard welcoming newcomers to the Cavern in my blue shirt and bare feet. D'ni lived, "growing, breathing, alive again". Even the DRC returned, with new ambitions and new funding. I was rarely present for the really important happenings, but I kept up with the news coming up to the surface and spreading through the Cavern.
And then it all fell apart. The DRC left for the final time. And the Guild, unable to accept yet another loss, collapsed under the weight of pride and bitterness.
Since then, I've made mostly sporadic visits to the Cavern. My Relto book may gather dust for months at a time until I hear the Call again, and I feel that familiar tingle on my hand as I press it to the page. My visits have been increasing in frequency the last few years. With no group to attach myself this time, I decided to learn as much as I can of the events that led to where we are today, and to aid the Guild of Archivists here and there. History has been a hobby of mine. There was much I'd missed, or only heard about in whispers. The books (the ordinary ones) and records in Chiso Preniv were eye-opening, not only because of the events, but the motivations. The factions. The conflicts I never saw. I dug deeper, going Beneath the surface.
That's how I learned his name: Harlan Mason. I can't say I knew him--we're not from the same tradition, and the world is a big place. But I knew people like him. Arrogant, self-righteous, sanctimonious, narcissistic--everything we're taught not to be. I don't know what he did to lose his credentials. I don't know much about the New Seed or what he tried to accomplish. But I knew I had to stay. I can't undo the damage he's caused; I'm not nearly that important. At least I can be present in a more helpful way than he was.
For now, I've claimed a tiny apartment (at least, I think it was an apartment?) in the Belari district, if I'm reading my maps correctly. My backpacking supplies from my college days have certainly come in handy. Did you know you can link with a bicycle if you know how to carry it? Not only do I use it to explore the city, but it's great for charging my "hand" crank portable generator down here.
There will always be a part of me that's still a Greeter, even as I move on to archiving and researching. Let me know if I can assist with any of your projects, or you need a listening ear.
It's nice to have friendly faces around when it feels like the world's trying to starve you of resources for this delicate work down here.