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event } this ain't a scene, it's a deus ex machina (act one)
WHO: All y’all.
WHAT: Act One of This Ain’t A Scene It’s a Deus Ex Machina
WHERE: On Navi; Rizyeria and New Estos on the planet Merox.
WHEN: This month of April.
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if you get yourself smote, please report it on the death page.
scene one.
Navi has an announcement for everyone, and as per usual, it’s being broadcast right into your brain:
Attention, passengers.
I apologize that it has taken so long, but I believe I’ve found a solution to the problem where some of you have been transposed into a body that is not yours.
We are approaching an anomaly in the current galaxy known as the Blenga Zone. This area is known to be a hotspot of strange energy - some even describe the energy as “mystical” in nature. I believe that plotting a course directly through it may provide the catalyst to reverse your consciousnesses back into your original bodies.
I do admit this is not an area in which I have any expertise, so if any of you do have experience with this sort of thing, I am willing to listen to your advice.
For the rest of you, you’ll find sturdy restraints emerging from the walls. Please be ready to strap yourselves in - I imagine this part of our voyage will be less than smooth.
Please stand by …
As promised, wherever you are on Navi, a padded harness emerges from the wall nearby, ready for you to utilize when the turbulence begins. And what turbulence it is! The shaking begins gradually, but quickly increases in intensity until the movement becomes severe, and Navi shouts for everyone to strap in and brace for impact. Warnings blare over the PA, lights flicker out and are replaced with the dim red glow of emergency lights, and it seems as if Navi will be shaken apart at the seams. The ship pitches in varying directions, over and over again, until the crash of final impact can be felt, and Navi flips over a few times before skidding to a stop. On the bright side, Navi landed right side up.
On the even brighter side … at least you’re back in your body now?
scene two.
Eventually, through your combined powers of investigation, it becomes apparent that Navi is offline. The glyphlinks won’t connect, everything on the ship is in low-power mode, and even the drones are nowhere to be found. It’s not hard to guess that Navi has sustained some injuries after that extremely rough landing. Luckily, the loading dock is still functional, so you can still leave the ship to check out the planet!
Checking out the planet means discovery that Navi’s crash ended not far from a walled city, and what looks like a factory town on the outside of that wall. Any passengers curious enough to investigate will find themselves soon met - with wariness and suspicion - by local inhabitants, and escorted into the heart of the slums to meet with their leader, who resides with other locals in a large, abandoned warehouse. Roughly made tents are scattered throughout the warehouse floor, giving it the appearance of a refugee camp more than permanent housing, and a small crowd of children is seated around a larger hooded and cloaked figure seated on a stack of wooden crates. He stops imparting whatever wisdom the children had been attending with rapt attention and glances up at the newcomers.
“I see we have some visitors,” he says, in a neutral, slightly metallic voice. “Welcome to Rizyria. We don’t have much, but if you come in peace, we’re quite happy to share what we have.” He stands and pushes back the hood from his cloak to show his unobscured face, which is covered in numerous fluttering miniature wings, which are in turn covered with even more eyes. “My name is Hanna’morith. What brings you to us today?”
scene three.
Once the exposition cutscene has been cleared, Hanna’morith offers to assist with healing Navi, and he promises to recruit some of the other Rizyrians for the effort as well. There’s just one thing he’ll ask in return - your assistance in locating the Imrathic Shattershards, which are scattered to various public buildings and private collections inside the walled city of New Estos. All you will need to do is locate one of the shards, liberate it from its current abode, and return it to Hanna’morith for eventual reconstitution.
A handful of Rizyrians appear at Hanna’morith’s side to start planning the various infiltrations, and Hanna’morith asks to be taken to see the injured Navi. Feel free to mingle while you wait, and once your plans are finalized, you can head out whenever you’d like - though sooner is better, obviously. If not undertaking this high-risk scavenger hunt, you can head back to Navi, or stay in town to take in the entirely terrible sights.
WHAT: Act One of This Ain’t A Scene It’s a Deus Ex Machina
WHERE: On Navi; Rizyeria and New Estos on the planet Merox.
WHEN: This month of April.
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if you get yourself smote, please report it on the death page.
scene one.
Navi has an announcement for everyone, and as per usual, it’s being broadcast right into your brain:
I apologize that it has taken so long, but I believe I’ve found a solution to the problem where some of you have been transposed into a body that is not yours.
We are approaching an anomaly in the current galaxy known as the Blenga Zone. This area is known to be a hotspot of strange energy - some even describe the energy as “mystical” in nature. I believe that plotting a course directly through it may provide the catalyst to reverse your consciousnesses back into your original bodies.
I do admit this is not an area in which I have any expertise, so if any of you do have experience with this sort of thing, I am willing to listen to your advice.
For the rest of you, you’ll find sturdy restraints emerging from the walls. Please be ready to strap yourselves in - I imagine this part of our voyage will be less than smooth.
Please stand by …
As promised, wherever you are on Navi, a padded harness emerges from the wall nearby, ready for you to utilize when the turbulence begins. And what turbulence it is! The shaking begins gradually, but quickly increases in intensity until the movement becomes severe, and Navi shouts for everyone to strap in and brace for impact. Warnings blare over the PA, lights flicker out and are replaced with the dim red glow of emergency lights, and it seems as if Navi will be shaken apart at the seams. The ship pitches in varying directions, over and over again, until the crash of final impact can be felt, and Navi flips over a few times before skidding to a stop. On the bright side, Navi landed right side up.
On the even brighter side … at least you’re back in your body now?
scene two.
Eventually, through your combined powers of investigation, it becomes apparent that Navi is offline. The glyphlinks won’t connect, everything on the ship is in low-power mode, and even the drones are nowhere to be found. It’s not hard to guess that Navi has sustained some injuries after that extremely rough landing. Luckily, the loading dock is still functional, so you can still leave the ship to check out the planet!
Checking out the planet means discovery that Navi’s crash ended not far from a walled city, and what looks like a factory town on the outside of that wall. Any passengers curious enough to investigate will find themselves soon met - with wariness and suspicion - by local inhabitants, and escorted into the heart of the slums to meet with their leader, who resides with other locals in a large, abandoned warehouse. Roughly made tents are scattered throughout the warehouse floor, giving it the appearance of a refugee camp more than permanent housing, and a small crowd of children is seated around a larger hooded and cloaked figure seated on a stack of wooden crates. He stops imparting whatever wisdom the children had been attending with rapt attention and glances up at the newcomers.
“I see we have some visitors,” he says, in a neutral, slightly metallic voice. “Welcome to Rizyria. We don’t have much, but if you come in peace, we’re quite happy to share what we have.” He stands and pushes back the hood from his cloak to show his unobscured face, which is covered in numerous fluttering miniature wings, which are in turn covered with even more eyes. “My name is Hanna’morith. What brings you to us today?”
scene three.
Once the exposition cutscene has been cleared, Hanna’morith offers to assist with healing Navi, and he promises to recruit some of the other Rizyrians for the effort as well. There’s just one thing he’ll ask in return - your assistance in locating the Imrathic Shattershards, which are scattered to various public buildings and private collections inside the walled city of New Estos. All you will need to do is locate one of the shards, liberate it from its current abode, and return it to Hanna’morith for eventual reconstitution.
A handful of Rizyrians appear at Hanna’morith’s side to start planning the various infiltrations, and Hanna’morith asks to be taken to see the injured Navi. Feel free to mingle while you wait, and once your plans are finalized, you can head out whenever you’d like - though sooner is better, obviously. If not undertaking this high-risk scavenger hunt, you can head back to Navi, or stay in town to take in the entirely terrible sights.
Murmur | OTA
The careful optimism all but vanished upon discovering exactly what kind of planet they'd been stranded on. Of course it had to be one touched by MindsEye, and of course it had to be in the throes of robot-themed despair. Worse yet, robots designed as a disgusting mockery of angels. Murmur had been content to go along placidly enough until he caught sight of the group's leader.
Then he was gone. Well... not really gone. He'd retreated to a stack of rubble and debris to perch and observe the goings on not unlike a territorial cat. Perch was not a metaphor, he'd found the most precarious point he possibly could and was indeed balanced on his toes, curled in on himself in a posture that would be uncomfortable for any human to maintain for long. The generally neutral if faintly puzzled expression had been replaced by one of faint disgust and intense wariness. This did not bode well and they should leave immediately.
He didn't want to get involved and very pointedly had distanced himself from any conspiratorial conversations about collecting pieces of weapons or what have you. These were mortal affairs and mortal business and he would have none of it.
He's absolutely going to get roped into it.
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He's been out and about as carefully as he can manage to be, gathering up whatever he can find that might serve as a good substitute for the components on earth he'd use for something big. Because he's done with this bullshit, and he aims for a proper revolution. Or at least as much destruction as he can deal out instead. Arrogant holy types were never his thing, and here, they're fake. And in the face of subjugation and sell-outs? Well, John never had a chance of staying out of it.
Not that he'll admit it, even to himself. It's all just in case, or if it gets worse, and can't hurt to be prepared. And that's what he keeps telling himself, but his heart has a place that burns bright with righteous anger at this sort of wrong, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. He won't deny that that anger flares up a bit when he comes across Murmur on the sidelines while component searching. He supposes it's not a surprise, though. Angels are all talk. They won't lift a finger unless directly ordered by their father.
He barely suppresses a sneer.] Enjoying the view from up there?
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Not particularly.
[It's not like he's enjoying any of this, but what else is he supposed to do? He Isn't Allowed to get involved of his own accord, and the rules by which he can are fairly strict and cumbersome. Best just to observe as is his traditional duty.]
You seem especially motivated.
[He's trying to pretend he's not aware of John's judging him.]
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[John is trying very hard for solely angry, and he's absolutely enraged. But there's sadness still creeping in, he can't help but be disappointed. He just wants for once, just one measly pathetic little time, for an angel to be willing to step out of that box of convenient excuses to help those in need.
Where is the flaming sword? Where is the righteous anger? Where is the guiding messenger? John thinks that these parts of angels are entirely fictitious. But the scared, hurt part of him still clings to the idea of angels that actually do something.]
Doesn't it hurt you, even a little? [John's voice is strained, a bit shaky with anger and frustration.] They're suffering, and there's a whole hoard of fake feathered bastards keeping them subjugated. Even if you don't give a damn about the people, surely that has to make your blood boil. They're a facsimile at best, doing a space fascist's dirty work. [He huffs.] Well, while you enjoy the show, I'm going to actually do something.
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Generally when someone came at him with accusations and demands for action he tended to respond more coldly, but John was coming from a place of genuine understanding, not wild speculation and expectation. It hit differently, and Murmur found himself shifting in mild discomfort on his perch. For the being that rarely showed much in the way of emotion or reaction, that was quite a lot.
There was at least one small thing he wanted to address while he chewed on the rest.]
All souls have value.
[He murmured softly, eyes sweeping back to the horizon somewhere in the distance. After a few long moments they closed as he took in a deep, slow breath. Unnecessary yes, but he did it all the same.]
Yes. It does. [His words are as measured and careful as ever, but much like the people suffering here John was also coming from a place of pain and wounded faith. He deserved an answer.] I hear their pain, I Know their suffering. These abominations... [There's a hiss in his tone betraying just a hint of the rage he really was holding back behind that cold icy demeanor.] Are a vile mockery and should be destroyed.
[He looked back to John, head canted to the side again in curiosity.]
What will you do?
[Murmur has failed to explain why he's not doing anything, but he does seem to have some genuine interest in what John's doing.]
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Some have more value to the creator than others. [The tension around John is almost palpable, he's so terribly human, no amount of magic can strip him from his feelings and his love and his pain and his powerful small set of morals. He's tried in the past, life would be worlds easier if he didn't feel so much. But he wasn't successful and now, he's here trembling with rage and something awfully painful in the presence of something divinely created with the power to change fate. But that also refuses to.
They're always on the side. John should be used to it by now. Where were all the angels and god's great power when his father took his anger out on John? Where were the angels when poor Astra was dragged to hell? He suppresses a shudder, bites back his anger as he waits for another answer that will probably anger him.
And it does. But not in the way John really expected it to. Murmur seems too real to him compared to Manny's bullshit, or Gabriel's arrogance, or the breathy cherubic bullshit he's gotten from others. And it keeps throwing him off, taking him out of his center, leaving him further on edge and worse? Gives him that just enough feeling of hope in something that's supposed to be better than him.
That's the part he hates the most. That Murmur almost makes him believe that angels are potentially more than what they've proven him to be.
John is happy to push all that bullshit away for a minute. To focus on what Murmur has asked.] Oh, me? Well, I'm going to raise little hell. [It's what he's good at, after all.] It'd be easier back home, I've got all sorts of nasty things saved up from that galaxy. But I'm a resourceful man, if nothing else.
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Also that the man hadn't asked. No ask, no action. There were rules Murmur must abide and regardless of John's feelings on them he remained beholden to them no matter the universe.]
Is that what you think? [Bored of perching and listening for answers that weren't going to be forthcoming he leaped off his perch. One fluid motion more graceful than any man who looked like he lived under a pile of books near a conspiracy board had any right to be. A few moments spent ensuring he'd not uncovered any part of skin that wasn't already uncovered, that being his face and neck, while he made a show of straightening his clothing before looking to John expectantly. If he's going to get another lecture he might as well get something out of it.
They never did understand why the angels sat on the sidelines. The fragility of free will, and the destruction left in the wake of an angel taking action. Surely John had read the stories, certainly he'd heard the preachers and their gospels? An angel wasn't a cure all for the human condition, they were the nuclear option. There to wipe the slate clean to start again. So far humans have demonstrated themselves to be remarkably capable of not internalizing that lesson.]
Very well, John, show me what it is you hope to accomplish by doing that. Let us see your resourcefulness in action. And whether or not your judgement is sound.
[That last bit was the most damning hint for Murmur's own hesitance to act. Sure, he could depose of one space dictator only for another to rise and take their place. No, these things were delicate. Playing with the course of mankind wasn't his place and continues to not be his place but... it couldn't hurt to have a look. Who knows, maybe John can convince him this situation would benefit from Divine Intervention as it were.]
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John has heard all the stories. Some from angels themselves. He thinks he's met the creator himself, actually. Didn't get any better answers from him. But from how he sees it? If you make something, you're responsible for it. Which is why John has worked his entire adulthood to avoid dragging a poor child into existence. A child doesn't want to be made, it doesn't ask for it, and it deserves protection from the people who created it and who form the family of it. And if god is this great almighty parent, creating many? Then he should fucking do something. Free will is nice, but so is actually doing something instead of sitting on the sidelines.
Humans never asked to exist, after all. The same goes for the victimized people here.
There has to be a better way than this.
There has to be a better option.
Not that it matters now. Maybe it never mattered. Not that John has time to think about it at the moment. That sort of thought process is a luxury, and war has little time for luxuries.] I told you, I'm something of a dabbler. Right? And since the powers that be have graciously provided me with a good amount of dead? I figure it's time for them to face their victims. Literally.
[He makes a sharp sound, his breath is coming fast in stress and anger. There's also something excited in John, even if he won't admit it right now. It's a rush, being forced to accommodate the differences in environment and components all in the name of taking down an arrogant group of elite bastards with a shitty faux angel army.] Haven't made a golem in ages. But I think it'll be much the same. They're not that different than humans when it comes down to what counts. [Blood, bone, soul, muscle, maybe not formed the same way but all are things in common.]
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Of course if they wanted to talk about how His Holiness was a terrible father then boy did Murmur have some stories for John. One angle the humans always forgot was that the angels are creations as well. They weren't involved in the making of mankind, many of them didn't agree with the whole thing. They fought a war over it! No one seems to consider the cost of demanding assistance from beings many of whom might prefer to see your species annihilated might not be as brilliant a course of action as anticipated.
If there is a better way then it would be by their own hand and own decisions to deliver it.
He made a face at John's suggestion. One part intrigued and several disgusted. Toying with souls is an abhorrence, but he won't tell John not to, it's not his place to dictate free will.]
And you are expecting this task to accomplish... what, exactly?
[Chaos is all well and good, Murmur would just like to understand the intended outcome. It would make driving toward a goal more clear. John's further explanation did seem to draw some interest in the angel.]
Fleshweaving?
[He's dabbled himself, back when his feathers were charred and he didn't have to worry about the slightest mistake severing what small link he still had with Heaven again.]
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[If John knew that, well, there'd be the queen mother of all shitty bad-things-happen-to-good people whinefests, curated just for Murmur. The greatest feast of them. Perhaps even the Vitellius’ Feast of whinefests. But thankfully he doesn't, so he won't purposefully be a pain in the arse about it.
Besides, he's got things to do that are far more important than that. His mind is set on war, and he's going to bring out the troops shortly.
John isn't entirely hateful towards Murmur and his kind. John understands the roles of angels, and in his heart he knows that they don't have a great time of it either. He knows they're just another shitty creation in a whole host of shitty creations. It's the self-righteous arrogance of them that really leaves John seething, though. None of them are worth a thing, none of them valuable, most of creation are just sad sods trying to get by. He figures they're all cut from the same worthless cloth, demons, angels, humans.
All of them god's anything but perfect creations.
But even if John is just another worthless bastard, he's a bastard that's going to do something. And the rage is giving way to excitement, John's heartbeat runs faster now, his eyes bright with malicious mischief. He hasn't had an excuse to go all out in a long time. So even if he hates the circumstances, a part of him is gleeful at the chance to weave destruction out of intentions.]
I don't know if I've got it in me to take out the prophet blighter on my own, no clue how strong he really is, but I'm sure as hell able to make things very inconvenient for him and anyone who serves him. Golems are special like that. They don't hurt, don't feel, don't need to stop and breathe. So every weakness that those bodies held in life? Gone. [He snaps his fingers, magic sparking in a dull golden glow between them.] Just like that. Imbue a little extra magic, twist a ritual, and at the end of their second lives they go out with a bang. [He takes a breath, and rifles through a pocket for a cigarette. He needs the nicotine, and badly.] So that's that. I can have a small explosive army at the ready in forty-five minutes or less, I figure. And then all I have to do is send them out, and follow after to dish out a little hell of my own.
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He tears his eyes away, instead letting his gaze sweep the walls that contain the city. Such a fragile barrier against the cost of status.]
I wouldn't know. We've never met.
[It's better to redirect than to address John's accusations directly, there's little to be gained from reminding him that the fallen world is a result of actions taken. He hardly needs to put the salt in that wound, and most certainly would prefer to spare himself further headache by giving John ammunition. The man has proven himself a threat and Murmur, for his part, can be very good at dodging those. He's had ample practice.
Ah but the change in demeanor is refreshing, less of this useless whining and more action. That's what he likes to see. After a thoroughly long look at the wall nearby his eyes sweep back to John, taking in that flicker of magic in eyes that could watch the ripples far beyond what John could ever hope to see.]
Not unlike the machines themselves. Of course... the size of their forces has not yet been determined. Should one not familiarize themselves with the battlefield first?
[He wants to have a look around but he needs an excuse. Maybe if he can press John to utilize a tiny bit of tactics, he can set his own plans in motion.]
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Treasure hunting isn't his forte, Jon learned that well enough during his quest for information on how to stop the Unknowing, so he hasn't volunteered his services for searching out one of the sword shards. He does, however, have a special skill when it comes to Compelling people to tell him what he wants to know. He thinks that might make for a better user of his time on this planet - assisting in the shard search by finding where the pieces are stashed. Hanna'morith had only been able to pinpoint the exact location of some of the pieces. He can report back and let the others take point on retrieval.
He's headed toward the gate into New Estos when he catches sight of Murmur and decides to postpone his mission for now in favor of checking in on his feathered more-than-friend. The angel had exited rather abruptly, and Jon can guess that's not a good sign.
"Are you all right?"
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By now Jon has probably figured out that Murmur challenges the British in his ability to understate the severity of things. The fact he'd absconded so suddenly and was now aggressively perching and scowling at pretty much everything certainly suggested it was a little more than "dislike." Detest might be closer, but even that wasn't a strong enough word.
It was taking a lot of self control to not try to obliterate Hanna'morith outright simply for existing, so best he let the others handle diplomacy.
Internal roiling temporarily distracted he focused his attention on Jon, only just now seeming to realize he was clearly heading into the thrice-damned city. "What are you up to?"
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"Mm ... yes, I rather got the impression that nobody liked this place. Not even the people who live here." From what they'd been told, the oligarchy of New Estos made the Tories seem downright benevolent in comparison. Jon offers Murmur the tiniest of wry smiles as he turns back to answer his question.
"I, erm - I thought I might be able to help expedite the process of finding these hidden artifacts. Care to join me?"
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He shouldn't get involved. It's not his place to influence the course of mortal affairs. Still, having a look around couldn't hurt right? These weren't actual angels, they probably couldn't tell Murmur from a human, if they could see him at all given Jack's sigil. That, and Jon did ask with a nice little smile... how can he say no?
He hopped from his perch, light as a feather landing on the ground beside him with no show of wings but a rather impressive display of dexterity all the same. Smoothing out his clothing to ensure he looked as human as possible he returned Jon's wry smile alongside a nod. "I suppose a look couldn't hurt." He'd hate to send Jon in there alone.
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"Great," he says, and his smile warms and widens. "Shall we?" He gestures in the direction of the gate and sets off, trusting Murmur will be right beside him as he walks.
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"Do you think they will keep their word?" He muses softly as he falls into step with the Archivist. Not being able to read the being's soul made understanding his intent all the more difficult. Maybe that's why the machines repulsed him so, no souls to speak of.
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“I don’t know,” he says, finally, and gives Murmur an apologetic look. “But I’d like to believe they will.”
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"Let us hope that their integrity remains intact." It clearly didn't with the so called elites who had claimed the city for themselves. How vile they were to treat their own like this.
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He falls silent again for another long moment while they walk, mulling over their situation and his hastily constructed plan to enter the gate. His thoughts circle around to the more recent events, Navi’s crash landing and the weird state in which some of the passengers found themselves. Jon lightly clears his throat and glances over at Murmur.
“How - erm, how are you doing, now that we’re all … back to normal?”
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Murmur hummed a thoughtful sound at Jon's question, eyes continuing to scan the sky suspiciously as they walked. "I must admit that novel as it was to spend a short time mortal, I would prefer against revisiting that experience. I much prefer my own vessel..." His eyes swept over Jon briefly and he smiled just a hint bashfully. "I much prefer you in yours as well." That might be the world's most awkward attempt at a flirt in all of existence. Ignore him.
"That said, I am feeling much improved." He sure did complain a whole lot while he was Strand. Everything about being Strand was terrible.
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“Oh … erm, thank you? I’m rather partial to it as well.” Obviously, since it’s the only body he’s ever inhabited, until now. He chuckles lightly. “Yours is quite nice too. Very … sturdy.”
That’s a thing people say to give a compliment, right? If Murmur is awkward about flirting, he’s in good company, because Jon is pretty awkward about flirting back. He lightly clears his throat, a little embarrassed at his choice of words after the fact.
“Alex did a good job of keeping mine from being damaged. I really must thank her for that the next time I see her.”
He’d inhabited hers with care as well, of course he did. Not only is Alex a friend, but it’s also a matter of simple courtesy. You’d take good care of a borrowed jacket, why not a borrowed body?
“But, erm … I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Jon says, glancing over to aim a fond smile in Murmur’s direction. “I know you weren’t exactly comfortable with Strand’s … vessel.”
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Murmur smiles, it's one of those that's a brief flash of teeth and doesn't last long, but it does seem less predatory and more genuine in Jon's direction. "That does have have its merits. Granted that is more a result of my essence contained within... never mind. We should stay alert." He can explain how inhabiting a vessel as a non-corporeal being works later. If Jon cares for an explanation.
"I am glad to hear that. I must admit I was perhaps not as cautious with Richard's as I could have been." He definitely wasn't, though most of that was really not intentional. Most of it was frustration and carelessness, and some part not entirely understanding the limitations of a normal human body. He made a face at the mention. "It was unwieldly. Had my power and essence not been trapped within this one perhaps the experience would have been less unpleasant." He really doesn't like being mortal.
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But Murmur probably won’t be surprised when Jon questions him on the whole vessel-inhabitation thing anyway. The Archivist must know!
“How does that work, by the way? The, erm - the essence-containing thing. I assumed you look like this to - to blend in, as it were, among humans. Like a disguise?”
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"That is one reason, yes. It is easier to work and move among your kind appearing as one of your own. In the past when we have shown ourselves to mortals we discovered that few can look upon our true forms unscathed. This eliminates the risk of harm." Yes, he knows Jon's only going to be more curious, so he shoots the man a 'don't you try' look before continuing.
"Building a vessel from scratch comes at a significant cost of energy, and we never quite get the details right. Instead it is simpler to take one that already exists. I prefer them empty, though it is not impossible to borrow one in use with permission. Though with an angel of my Sphere the resultant end is not favorable for the host."
It's a very gentle way of saying he burns out the mind.
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finally adds this endtag after forever 9_6