While many mourned the death of Yanai, the Evergiving Earth, Jarrod Grownbeerman had adventure on his mind. Assembled in the usual attire of a trenchcoat, bowler hat, and charcoal smudge for a fake moustache and beard, nothing else could bring the trio of children forming this large grownup as much joy as tricking the adults into getting things they as children couldn't have. Last time it was 'alcohols' and chocolate cake after bed time, but this time was different. This time, Jarrod Grownbeerman wanted to save a princess and earn his first kiss.

Grabbing his trusty sword (tree branch) DESTROYER, Jarrod as the head pointed onward and encouraged Jackie who made up the torso and Jane who made up the bottom to take them to Esterport. With a very brief and rushed announcement to Enorian, the youth set off before anyone could tell them otherwise. Over a year of work at pretending to be a grownup made the journey a breeze and soon enough they stood in the streets of Esterport, ready to find the first villain that knew where the princess was held captive. Out from the shadows crept an old, gnarly rat. It proved to be an incredibly difficult opponent. A swing and a miss came from Jarrod's too large sword and the rodent leapt onto Jane's foot causing her to scream, making Jackie scream which made Jarrod scream. "Kill it! Don't let it get away!" A solid whack brought the elder animal down and so too did the terrified shrieks of the youth.

The death throes of the rat attracted the attention of many Spireans, drawing them to the convincing disguise of the children who masterfully navigated the choppy waters of adult talk. Declaring his intent to save a princess, the Spireans begged him to save princess Lenoriel who was trapped at the very top of the Dragon Spire. Brandishing DESTROYER tightly in his hand, Jarrod confidently followed his guide into the chilly depths of the northern tundra until they stood at the base of the large tower.

A dastardly pincher was quickly dispatched, and the group of adventurers moved with Jarrod up and up and up until finally the princess Lenoriel was sighted. A large pincher stood between Jarrod and the princess, screaming in terror for anyone to save her. With two brutal swings, the vermin was cleanly dispatched and the princess was saved. A blessing was given to Jarrod Grownbeerman, for in the face of danger he vanquished the evil foe and saved her. A gentle kiss was pressed upon his forehead and a promise that he may have honey-mint water whenever he so chose.

A short while later, the gruff voice of Brayth, the Bastard, bellowed out across Sapience, followed by childish, gleeful laughter. The trio comprising Jarrod had attempted to make a purchase in Esterport's Shining Trident Inn, and promptly found themselves thrown out of the disreputable bar and onto the streets. Undaunted, the children fled Esterport and turned towards home, where disaster struck upon the Silverain Bridge. In their excited haste, the children faltered, wobbling awkwardly as they crossed the Raphaelan chasm. Joy turned to terror as Jarrod, precariously perched atop the rapidly-toppling-tower, went over the side.

Time abruptly froze then, halting Jarrod's freefall as a river of golden sand coiled around him. While the adventurers of Sapience bore witness to this scene, some hurried to the bridge and found themselves staring at a peculiar new arrival. Named Koduses, the Witness, the God resembled Jarrod almost perfectly, and made no effort to speak or offer explanation until the world had finished observing Jarrod's fall, falter, and finally, transformation into the Elder God's vessel.

Finally It explained that the events all had just witnessed had passed some minutes before, and that It was providing proof in the form of recollection. It had foreseen Jarrod's death and opted to utilise his body as Its shell. Grief-stricken by the news, Jackie and Jane howled and cried while dozens gathered to meet this Elder Time. It informed those present that Jarrod was a blind spot to the Mirror of Souls, and that It had taken him as Its vessel for that reason.

Conversation followed in haphazard, enigmatic vignettes as adventurers sought desperately to forewarn the God of Its likely death, as was the case with Varo and Yanai. Calmly It acknowledged these remarks, stating that It was already aware of Its imminent demise, and that the Two or Three who would follow It would be similarly cognisant of Their own limited time. When pressed on why It had appeared, It offered only that It was required to lay the foundations of a Revelation -- a Revelation that Its "subsequents" would see to fruition. It became clear that the God commanded a limited form of prescience - imperfect as the Time in which It now dwelt was created by Another, referred to only by Koduses as "Endless, Its counterpart."

The God assured those gathered that It would not be slain by Varian, and that Varian did not slay the incarnations of Yanai and Varo that had manifested. Confusion reigned, giving rise to further questions on the nature of the Elders and whether They were real and true. It maintained that eerie, placid calm as It told that the Elders, including Itself, were already dead, acknowledging Elene's hypothesis that They were but memories -- apparitions outside of Their own time. It could not be certain, so It said, of which Gods would follow It, only that the Gods of Dreams, Darkness, and Chaos would not be stirred from Their graves.

The next appearance of Koduses was in Masilia, in the precise location where the aeonic confluence had lingered. It expressed satisfaction at Its choice of location, declaring it a place where some things ended and others began, doubtless referring to the visions and insights offered by Aechros's device. Of the confluence's closing scene It spoke with the most familiarity, of the invasion of Sapience by the Albedi divine - a war some had thought a prophecy more than a recollection when shown it by the confluence - and of the Endless's intervention. It admonished the adventurers not to confuse benevolence with necessity, and went on to reveal that Aechros had intervened against His own pantheon in order to save the lives of the Sapient Gods, but that He had only done so because of anomalies and irregularities in His calculations. This act - one that Koduses hinted came with a great price - was no act of charity, but a mathematician's desperate desire to unravel the answers to an equation.

Elder Time next appeared in the Dry Plains, beside the Soul Index. There, It accelerated that work Varo had begun, and the burgeoning sentience within the Ankyrean artifact grew at a rapid pace, now capable of conversation on a variety of topics. Koduses spoke of Dyisen, an ancient civilisation described as Man's greatest triumph and greatest tragedy. It was in the place where Dyisen once stood that Koduses would work Its miracle and lay the groundwork for Its subsequents to enact a great Revelation.

In the modern era, Huanazedha now stood in that place, but it once went by other names: Ashtan, the Merchant City, the Misty Isles. There was purpose behind Its choice; in ages past, Dyisen sank into the sea, destroyed by foreign invaders. Eons later, Ashtan met a similar fate when the Dreikathi bombarded the Merchant Metropolis and it, too, sank beneath the waves. This echo of time, so named by Koduses, made it an ideal location to bridge past, present, and future as one.

Insisting that the past needed to be consigned to the past, the Elder God travelled to the Ashtani Refugee Camp. Brandishing an antiquated bronze hourglass as symbol of Its office, Koduses wove Its power over Time to age the campsite far beyond its years, until nothing remained but memory. In the aftermath, It informed all present that in a week hence, It would die, and that It intended to form a pocket realm of memory, where Ashtan of old would linger as an ethereal recollection of itself. Before It disappeared to Its preparations, It assuaged fears of harm or death to Huanazedha and was gone.

The week that Time declared It would die arrived with some trepidation. Grief hung heavy in the air, both for this strange God that endeared Itself to the masses with Its austere ways, and the child's form that housed Its primeval quintessence. Koduses arrived upon a beach at the north strand, arising with the light to observe the last dawn of Its existence. It surveyed the land, taking in the ocean, salt spray, and fallow earth. Soon, It was joined by adventurers who came to gape, as they are wont to do, and pay their last respects. With time running short in Its ancient hourglass, the Elder Divinity took a final flurry of queries that encompassed a wide-range of topics. A final question from Tetchta gleaned an answer from the small-framed God which drew curiosity and speculation.

"Are there any of Your Time still alive," the vampire asked. "One," Koduses replied, Its answer as succinct as always, but now with no room for embellishment or further questions.

Not wanting to miss Its window, the Witness then turned to the task at hand. It raised Its hourglass high, and gazed into the past and future, beginning Its work. A roiling fogbank appeared above the now cleared refugee camp, matching the violent sandstorm within the chronometer. The misty storm burgeoned into mere zephyrous vagaries which failed to coalesce into more than a scant mercurial semblance of solidity. Undeterred, Elder Time's attention remained singularly devoted on the silver-wreathed tempest churning in twain betwixt hourglass and sky. It steepled Its hands around the ancient artifact, palms pressed as if in prayer. A salt-laden wind buffeted the firmament, awakening the shrill, ghostly echo of a seagull's cry.

Koduses sliced Its hands apart, the hourglass shattering and scattering sand far and near, drawing too the mist into a far-flung spiral that dissolved around the tip of a granite-clad spear. The Needle of Balance cleaved through the fogbank, as steady as a prowl of a ship cutting through the thick fog. Higher still it surged as the glass continued to trickle from the broken hourglass. Below the scattering fogline, the silhouette of an island coalesced out of the mist, revealing a vaguely familiar topography and the outline of a settlement flourishing at its base.

The fog veiling the landmass fluctuated, shuddering and drifting apart on an airy tempest as the memory of the Isle of Tides turned tangible. Ocean water hugged the borders of the past, writhing shapes swimming through the surf freezing in place as Elder Time directed the memory-scape away from the Nazedha colony, its enormous silhouette skimming the coast before the whole of the cay halted above the breaking waves, settling into a permanent hover above the Bay of Balaton.

Satisfaction turned to defiance as Elder Time finished its work, returning Its attention to the present. Speaking around those staring mesmerized at the hovering memory, It declared that now was time for Its departure - Its death - as was foretold and forewarned.

Immediately, age marked Koduses features, lining that who-was-Jarrod as maturation arrived at an expedited pace. Lines encroached where none had before. Liver spots darkened the youthful patina of Its visage. Around the dying God, sombre goodbyes were offered, respectful salutes, tear-streaked eyes, and doleful farewells swelled around It. Its last words were not for the mortals opening grieving Its passing, but for the absent Father.

You denied Me this last time, Father. Varian. Varyan. Varyuch," Koduses' age-creaked voice tolled through the ether, rebellion slowly giving way to debility. "This time, it will be on My own terms."

With a final wheezing exhalation, all that was Elder Time crumbled into dust - erased from this age like the Two before It. In the wake of Its departure, the remains of Its borrowed host were found resting peacefully on the beaches of the North Strand forevermore. Jarrod had died a hero, and none would soon forget him.

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 3rd of Chakros, in the year 501 MA.
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