The Clockwork Society

The Clockwork Society

=• There Is No Clockwork Society •=

First thing you should know: there is no Clockwork Society. There never was and there never will be. It’s a myth, and that’s exactly what it should remain.

According to the stories, the Clockwork Society is comprised of individuals who have cast aside all other loyalties and freely share information. Supposedly, they have infiltrated the highest levels of every organization, and I’m not just talking about the 3 factions. The Orochi Group, the Phoenicians, the Sanctuary of Secrets, every organization is rumored to contain Clockwork Society agents, from the Council of Venice down to the smallest cabal, and they freely share every piece of knowledge these groups possess.

No one knows what they would do with all this information, but it’s a moot point since they don’t exist. Such an organization would surely exploit this knowledge, and as soon as they did, the factions would know it and annihilate them for such heinous betrayal. Even so, multiple investigations have been conducted on the subject, and they all produced the same result.

There Is No Clockwork Society.

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TRANSMIT - initiate time signal - RECEIVE - initiate harmonic oscillation – SHERPAS CANNOT BE TRUSTED - initiate the horology lexicon – REMEMBER THE WAGTAIL - the one-way mirror - WITNESS - The Clockwork Society.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

TINCS. A set of jumbled letters, born from Amundsen’s lost journey, whispered for years among the knowledgeable. Time flows on, measured by the Clock, the cogs maintained by keepers of secrets. “Beware the sherpas,” they whisper, “the false guides bearing clubs to smash the gears. Remember the wagtail, and guard your thoughts against the static. But far more important, They must never discover our existence. They must never see the Clock’s face, and They must never hear it chime.” That was the greatest secret of all.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

The secrets form a line of thought, drawn by those who have no secrets between each other. All can be seen by the face of the Clock. Templar, Dragon, and Illuminati are only the beginning. The Council of Venice, the Sanctuary of Secrets, the Orochi Group, the Phoenicians, all knowledge is revealed to the servants of the Clock, and only used for the good of all. The Clock does not take sides, and watches every side. The Eights see to it that the springs are wound, and decide what should and should not be done. The swinging of the pendulum ensures everything continues smoothly, so that Gaia does not become another casualty of the Secret War.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Nothing is forever, sweetling. Eyes wander, lives go on, and though the secret is kept, the Key for the Clock has been lost. The Eights are nowhere to be found. The pendulum slows. An occasional spark of passion brings energy, but it is a futile battle. Without the secret keepers, there is no one to wind the Clock, and it is only a matter of time.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick…

…

Silence. The silence of faded memories, of purposes lost. Only hollow husks remain, a shadow of what once was and what could have been. Though no one could see or hear the Clock, they had still reacted to its chimes. Time to sleep. Time to eat. Time to save the world from Cthulu again. Without it to measure the flow, the Dark Days came, and there is nothing to give warning that these days are only the beginning, that there is worse, much worse, yet to come. The secret of the secret, kept forever, and dead forever.

…tock.

Or is it? Nothing lasts forever, but the one who cared most is the one who remembers. Anything remembered is not truly dead. Two more sparks glow, but they are different. From their fire, a new Key is forged. Time has flowed on, even if the Clock did not show it, so this Key turns the Clock’s purpose as well as its springs. The pendulum takes on a new tempo. Slowly, agonizingly, the secret is taken up once again. The fallen Eights are reborn from the flames of those sparks, some old, some new, but all determined to keep the Clock running.

The pendulum swings, the Clock is wound, and lines of thought are ready to be drawn. But a careless slip catches Their attention. The sherpas walk softly, carrying big sticks, so the mantra is taken up anew. “TINCS,” comes the whisper. “TINCS.”

Tick tock. Tick tock.

There Is No Clockwork Society, but there will always be a Clock.

OOC: The old blog and all the old stuff is dead, but the revival has begun. See if you can search out someone to get in contact with. It might be closer than you think. -->