The Book of Knots - Jags
The Book of Knots - Jags
The Book of Knots - Jags
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unpleasant or inconvenient.<br />
Operations<br />
<strong>The</strong> Black Rose is works through Waldens and Activists on Chessboard<br />
Zero. Many discuss <strong>The</strong> Temple <strong>of</strong> Secrets without really knowing what<br />
it is (Chapel Perilous?) and consider it a path to enlightenment, which it<br />
certainly can be after a fashion.<br />
Dramas<br />
Along the sea-coasts <strong>of</strong> Mare Imbrium there are many people who know<br />
<strong>of</strong> the Temple and periodically make pilgrimages there to seek physical<br />
help, counsel on a tough problem, or ask for a variety <strong>of</strong> blessings. <strong>The</strong>se<br />
all have various high prices the Rose extracts.<br />
Also, in the fishing villages, there is a tendency to “haul in” dreamers<br />
(who may be humans undergoing deep Descent or may be other actors)<br />
and bring them up to the shores. Usually these people are used in a<br />
variety <strong>of</strong> important rituals for the villagers and may, for instance, be<br />
married to the daughter <strong>of</strong> a village elder or be asked to participate in an<br />
important function.<br />
Most times these revolve around secrets that one <strong>of</strong> more <strong>of</strong> the Actors<br />
(not necessarily the person who washes up) has, and their catastrophic<br />
exposing.<br />
<strong>The</strong> Factory<br />
Side: Caretakers<br />
Overview<br />
<strong>The</strong>re are vast acres and complexes <strong>of</strong> buildings powered by miles <strong>of</strong><br />
buzzing generators. Underground there are layered stories <strong>of</strong> conveyor<br />
belts, furnaces, and robot-arms. <strong>The</strong> “Executive Offices” are hospitalsterile<br />
and mausoleum-quiet, the omnipresent industrial grayness<br />
punctuated by cheery motivational posters (and ominously threatening<br />
safety posters) mounted under dirty, scratched glass.<br />
This is <strong>The</strong> Factory. Men, women, and even children toil away here<br />
on every shift. No one is sure what the factory makes—in some places<br />
workers use machine-looms to spin fabrics into cloth ... but is it for<br />
clothing? In other places metal is melted and cast in waves <strong>of</strong> blinding<br />
heat. Still other sections across its seemingly limitless span have<br />
refineries—and hospital wards where subjects are bled into tanks—and<br />
machines crush rocks—and workers stand before walls <strong>of</strong> humming<br />
radium dials—and ...<br />
<strong>The</strong> fact is, you’ll never find anyone who runs the Factory: at each step<br />
up the corporate ladder the illusion <strong>of</strong> luxury and paradise is shattered<br />
by close inspection revealing misery and despair. <strong>The</strong> Factory, some<br />
say, exists to grind down the souls <strong>of</strong> those in its clutches: and those in<br />
63<br />
<strong>Book</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Knots</strong> - <strong>The</strong> Caretakers