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[_NOPE_]

As the Children of Statesman are born into his city, they step forth weak and hesitant. Slowly but surely they learn their way and grow in knowledge and power. They face greater and greater challenges until at last they stand at a pinacle of power. Some then stand aside and pass their flame on to the next generation. A few linger a while and share their knowledge and refine their power. So that these few would have a challenge worthy of their measure against which to refine their abilities, Statesman set beside his City the Great Hamidon.

 

A Son of Tank and a Son of Scrapper were the first to come upon it:

"What is that cousin?"

"I do no know cuz. It is like something one would find in the back of a refrigerator written large. Let us confront it and see what we can learn"

 

..and so they learned the fastest way from the Land of the Hamidon to the place of healing. Clearly this was a challenge greater than merely two could meet. Support was sought. "Jello team Eleffem" they called out in the language of the Pugs. Soon a party of eight Children of Statesman set out to confront this strange new challenge. Little before had withstood as much. They strode forth into the Land of the Hamidon in confidence! They strode out of the place of healing in wonder. This was a greater challenge than even the Great Titan that once strode the land. Word was spread, the call went out, and soon a great multitude of the most powerful Children of Statesman where there gathered. En masse they attacked. En masse they fell.

 

Councils of war were called. Strategies were discussed in the meeting places. In time the Great Hamidon fell, and the victors were given rewards such as none had ever received before. The Great Hamidon did rise again, and again was defeated, until this too became routine and common place. The Hamidon would change and find new ways to fight back, the Children of Statesman would for a short time be shaken, but would always rise to the challenge. This is their nature.

 

The Children of Defender supported their cousins in this as is their gift and their curse for a rash question their Great Mother once asked. Many were content in this, but as they are their Mother's Children a few looked on and asked, "What do these others do that I could not? The Child of Scrapper there, we need him to defeat the parts of Hamidon that shrug off our blasts, but would we if enough Children of Defender took aim? The Children of Tank take the brunt of Hamidon's attack for us. With enough shared power could not Children of Defender do the same?", and so on.

 

Thus it was that a band of the Children of Defender gathered together to show that there was naught others could do they they could not. A score of them set out. Some took the role of the Children of Tank and looked to hold off the Great Hamdion's attacks from the others. Some took the role of the Children of Scrapper and sought to slay the aspects of Hamdion that are harmed little by attacks at range. Still more played the roles of Children of Blaster and Controller, seeking to quickly slay Hamidon's guardians. They were Children of Defender. They were powerful! Yet they failed.

 

A lesson was learned. We are not the Children of Tank, Scrapper, Blaster or Controller. Each has abilities we alone cannot fully match. We can achieve great things, but must not forget who we are. Do not seek to be what you are not. Find power in what you are.

 

- Jock Tamson, Mythologist.

[_NOPE_]

Though the First Children of Statesman drove the First Children of the Spider from the City, their children and grandchildren have often sought to return. There are places where great riches in prestige and glittering badges of honor can be reaped, and Warriors of both lineages clash there while their brethren farm that wealth. Thus it was in The Place of Shifting Time where Children of Statesman fought great battles and brought home a bounteous harvest. Their Warriors won great victories and few of the Spider Born could stand against them.

 

It has oft been told that the Children of Statesman thrive on challenge and novelty. So it was that in time the Warriors amongst them grew bored with their triumph and moved on to other goals and other places. The Farmers continued on about their business unremarking. For a while there was quiet. And then an Evil came.

 

Legendr was its name. It moved swiftly and unseen in dark shadows. It struck without warning, heedless of cries for mercy, and none there could stand against it. They ran, but they could not escape. They pleaded, and were mocked. They banded together, and were slaughtered one by one none the less. They cried out for help … and an answer came.

 

Trick, youngest son of Defender came to heed their call. He carried a mighty bow of yew and on his breast was pinned a shining jewel that marked him "Seeker of Monsters". He moved with confidence and grace, yet wore a cloak of shadows and wove a cunning path that Legendr could not strike him. "Who leads here?" he called out, but no answer came. "Elefftee!" he called out in the language of the Pugs, but still no answer came save Legendr's mocking calls of "Gimp" and "Newb". Undaunted Trick sought a place of observation and watched with a keen eye. From his vantage his watched as Legendr moved silently towards a pair of farmers who stood unheeding, lost in conversation. As the fiend raised his weapon to strike, Trick himself struck hard and fast, training arrow after arrow upon his foe leaving him weakened, unhidden, and stunned. Then Trick leaped down between the farmers and called out to them saying, "Strike now you fools", and so Legendr was felled and fled from The Place of Shifting Time.

 

In this way it came to pass that Trick, for a time, stood guard over The Place of Shifting Time, and the farmers prospered once more under his watch. Some quietly went about their business. Others watched, and learned, and in time fought battles of their own. One day a young Daughter of Empathy came. She wore the clothing of a Puggish Healer, but over her back a well strung bow was hung, and her eyes were old with wisdom. She spoke to Trick of other places and other challenges, until together they left the Place of Shifting Time.

And then an Evil came.

 

Mother of Legendr was its name. It moved swiftly and unseen in dark shadows. It struck without warning, heedless of cries for mercy. Some ran, but they could not escape. Some pleaded, and were mocked. Some cried out for help … and an answer came, for some banded together, and they fought using the lessons learned from Trick and were soon victorious.

 

So it was that in The Place of Shifting Time the Children of Statesman fought great battles and brought home a bounteous harvest. Their Warriors won great victories and few of the Spider Born could stand against them.

 

- Jock Tamson, Mythologist

[_NOPE_]

The City you see about you is beautiful, but it is only a fraction of the whole grandeur of Statesman's creation for it is but one aspect of the 11 fold nature of the City as it crosses the Servers. Cast your minds eye now out across the Web That is The Universe, and see them hanging there, the glistening jewel like dewdrops that are our homes. 11? No, look there, almost lost in the dark, one, perhaps two strange misshapen drops quiver on the very edge of reality. Here all worlds meet and the land is changeable and strange. Here The Lords of the City play with what might be and what never was. Only the Seers go here.

 

The Seers go here, into the chaos where others fear to tread, and bring back tales: Tales of hope, and fear. Whispers of joys to come, and shadows of evil to pray against.

 

Here treads one such soul now, an old soul, a tired soul. He has lost track of why he wanders, where he goes, even who he is. He comes to a dusty plain, wide and lonely. There are footprints here, but he walks alone. Following the trail he comes to a tall dark castle. There, in the tallest tower, a golden light and sound of whirring machinery draws his gaze. Climbing a tall and winding stair, he comes to a wide and airy chamber. From its windows the world stretches out like a map. The City shines in the East, The Rogue Isles hang like low clouds in the West. It would be a mesmerizing view if not for the room's contents. From top to bottom and into every corner the room is filled with clockwork of gold, silver, and brass. Everywhere the eye falls, gears turn, counterweights spin, and levers rise and fall. A man moves among them, watching and adjusting. He talks to himself as he works, now laughing, now snarling, as if beset by voices alternately amusing and aggravating. At last noting the intrusion, The Keeper sets down his tools, a cloth with which to polish, and a soft hammer with which to tap. He wipes his brow, and turns to you smiling...

 

"Ah, I have been waiting. It has been long since you were here last."

 

"I have been here before?"

 

"Aye Son of Sonic, Daughter of Trick, but much has passed below. Many lives have you lived since, and I see you are weary."

 

"Did you make all this?"

 

"I? No! It is for others to craft. I tinker and tune. I maintain the balance"

 

Now softly, "What is all of this?"

 

With a sweeping gesture The Keeper replies, "This is The Game! The very machinery of your world. Come, look here at my work, what do you see?"

 

"This part of the machinery seems older than others. It seems still and quiet next to the whole. Here these gears are still and a frost grows upon them."

 

Whispering now in words aimed at the heart, "That is you, old soul. For many years these gears turned, now they grow quiet and frost here in the dark. Bound in ice. What might you do with ice Child of Defender?"

 

"I might shield my allies, and slow my foes. Master frosts and bolts of ice!"

 

A light grows in the eye, and a fire grows in the heart. The Keeper takes this fire and lights a brand. He thaws the machinery and it stirs with new life. The brand, now a flame of ice, he thrusts into heart that kindled it.

 

"Go Child of Ice, The City awaits!"

 

A new star streaks across the heavens. In the City below eyes turn upward in hope and trepidation. Soon the Seers will return with tales of hope, and fear. Whispers of joys to come, and shadows of evil to pray against.

 

In his high castle, The Keeper smiles to himself, then suddenly throws a switch. Showers of red sparks fall down, illuminating a face.

 

"Come from the shadows Child of the Spider, it is long since we spoke last."

 

- Jock Tamson, Mythologist.

[_NOPE_]

Long ago when the world was still young, but no longer so young, Defender set out in search of adventure. She set out into the park lands. Circling about she gathered the Skuls there into a great mass, and drove them before her with mighty storm winds. Into the air they flew, flying great distances some over the walls and some onto building nearby. Though Skuls flew through the air most magnificently, she soon grew bored as she had done this a thousand times before.

 

So next Defender gathered her family about her and they set out to gather Kora Fruit. In the shattered lands where these grow (that is a different story Best Beloved) there are great jets of air upon which one may fly from one floating island of stone to another. As Scrapper approached one such dangerous leap, Defender reached out with her powers and changed he weight and speed. This caused him, not unlike the Skuls before him, to fly through the air most magnificently and brought much laughter. Yet this was an old trick and after a while seemed cruel.

 

Thus the day passed: Great monsters where felled using techniques so well worn they seemed mechanical. Goals were met with nary a word spoken as all knew their role well. There is joy to be found in the application of well earned skill, but soon Defender found herself standing on a rise and looking out over The City not knowing what to do. The streets below were filled with memories she cherished, she could not just turn away, but was left filled with a melancholy that can come when one stares into the past.

 

Statesman looked down and saw his daughter thus paralyzed and sent upon her a great sleep. The sun rose and set, and Defender slept. Generations past, and Defender slept. The world changed, and Defender slept. When at last she awoke, she looked down upon a world at once familiar and yet strange and new. What was this new building here? Of what strange villain did the Children below her speak? A smile spread across her face at once both arrogant and confident (which are in the end the same thing, depending on results) and she set forth to learn what had changed.

 

 

So it is to this day that some who we mourn as passed are not gone. They merely sleep while the world changes. Some indeed are gone, and are sore missed. Yet others will return and find the world made new for them. Then we shall see faces we miss smile again.

 

- Jock Tamson, Mythologist

[_NOPE_]

And as far as I know, that's it. MAN I miss that guy, he was an AMAZING writer. I wonder whatever happened to him???

 

I went looking for these on the Paragon Wiki and was SHOCKED to not find them there. I might have to resolve that issue toot suite just in case this server goes down.

[DeaconFrost]

My Repeat Offenders it is being scratched...

 

[_NOPE_]

By the way, here was my humble contribution to Defender Lore that was stickied right along with Jock's brilliant masterpieces:

The Conscience of a Defender v2

by The Philotic Knight - Written on June 23rd, 2007; updated November 27th, 2007

 

Another one got trolled today, it's all over the papers. "Crimefighter Defeated in Crey Lab Debacle", "Defender Faceplanted after Suicide Debuff Attempt"...

 

Damn fruitsalads. They're all alike.

 

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1980's D&D-brain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the Defender? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a Defender, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with Outbreak... I'm smarter than most of the other archetypes, this crap they teach us bores me...

 

Damn gimped n00blet Defender. They're all alike.

 

I'm in Atlas Park or Galaxy City. I've listened to scrappers try to explain for the fifteenth time how to defend them. I understand it better than they do. "No, Mr. Wulfereen, I didn't heal your HP. I prevented damage with defense buffs..."

 

Damn blue-shield. Probably spammed the h34lz. They're all alike.

 

I made a discovery today. I found my secondary blasts. Wait a second, this is cool. I can pwn mobs too! If I take a dirtnap, it's because I screwed it up, I don't have to just be a buffbot for other heroes. If my teammate died, it's not my fault, it's because they didn't look at what my powers DO. Not because I didn't rock the aura...

Or debuff the AV...

Or heal at just the right moment...

Or babysit the blapper that attacked the next mob solo and should have made a DAMN scrapper in the first place...

 

Damn fruitsalad. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

 

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through my endurance bar like heroin through an addict's veins, a website is loaded, a refuge from the day-to-day PuG gripes is sought... an AT message board is found.

 

"This is it... this is where I belong..."

I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

 

Damn blue-shield. Taking up all the bandwidth again. They're all alike...

 

You bet your ASS we're all alike... we've had to take down gray-con “Skuls” when we wanted to best Lord Nemesis... the bits of mobs that you did let slip through were already half-dead and disoriented. We've been kill-stealed by scrappers, or ignored on the teamseek window. The few that offered to team with us found us willing compatriots, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

 

This is our world now... the world of the Gale and the Force Bubble, the beauty of the buff. We make use of powers that would be considered 1337 if they weren't denounced by some WoW rejects with a one-track mind, and you call us gimp. We explore unique power combinations and alternative enhancement slotting... and you call us gimp. We seek after new unconventional playstyles... and you call us gimp. We exist without power prejudice, without mindless hack and slashing, without pre-made "internet" builds... and you call us gimp.

 

You build farming teams, bridge in Peregrine, cry nerf, post flames, troll us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the gimped ones.

 

Yes, I am gimped. I'm gimped because I choose to team with you. I'm gimped because I choose to use EVERY power at my disposal to save your squishy butt, not just seek out the most uber leet build for the best XP per minute. My crime is that of being smarter than you, something that you will never forgive me for.

 

I am a Defender, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

 

+++The Philotic Knight+++

 

---

 

Post style shamelessly jacked from the much better and more powerful "Hacker's Manifesto", aka "The Conscience of a Hacker" by The Mentor.

[mousestalker]

Thank you for posting those. :)

[Rylas]

[insert shocked face]

 

Well, there goes any and all productivity I'll have at work tomorrow.

[Burnt Toast]

I ran the SG Fruit Salad on Freedom :)

[Treacheres The Dastard]

What a ride. I'm very happy to run across these.

[rizlazz]

thanks for posting these Philotic, they still bring a lump to the throat after all this time. I also wonder what happened to Jock, I wonder if he will also come forth with a smile both arrogant and confident (results pending) and set out to see the New World. I hope so.

[_NOPE_]

I've now preserved these for posterity here.

[Radionuclide]

I had forgotten all about these. Great to read them again. Thanks for posting them!

[Jock_Tamson]

I came here to do this and find it to be unnecessary

 

They say you cannot go home again.  You might take that to mean that once you leave a home it is lost to you forever, but that is not true.  You can return to a place, but you will not be the person who left, you will always return changed.  If you are lucky, if you are very  lucky, you will come back and find there not just familiar places haunted by ghosts, but friends with whom to reminisce and create new stories.  You cannot go home again, as it will have changed as will you, but you can build a fire in a cold hearth and dust off old comfortable chairs.  Perhaps you can build a new home.  If not you can leave with a warm heart and a promise that we must meet like this again.

 

It's time to write a resurrection story.

 

- Jock Tamson, Torchbearer.

 

 

[Caslomyr]

I came here to do this and find it to be unnecessary

 

They say you cannot go home again.  You might take that to mean that once you leave a home it is lost to you forever, but that is not true.  You can return to a place, but you will not be the person who left, you will always return changed.  If you are lucky, if you are very  lucky, you will come back and find there not just familiar places haunted by ghosts, but friends with whom to reminisce and create new stories.  You cannot go home again, as it will have changed as will you, but you can build a fire in a cold hearth and dust off old comfortable chairs.  Perhaps you can build a new home.  If not you can leave with a warm heart and a promise that we must meet like this again.

 

It's time to write a resurrection story.

 

- Jock Tamson, Torchbearer.

 

Welcome home, Jock!  I look forward to seeing what a few years away have done to your writing skills!

 

- Caslomyr

[Oubliette_Red]

I loved that thread, glad you revived it PK!

 

And welcome back Jock!

[RussHood]

This Lore... it feels like it actually took place in game engine, the writing style, makes you feel like your playing it. 

Not like other lore, that feels more like history texts

[Rannos1033]

I came here to do this and find it to be unnecessary

 

They say you cannot go home again.  You might take that to mean that once you leave a home it is lost to you forever, but that is not true.  You can return to a place, but you will not be the person who left, you will always return changed.  If you are lucky, if you are very  lucky, you will come back and find there not just familiar places haunted by ghosts, but friends with whom to reminisce and create new stories.  You cannot go home again, as it will have changed as will you, but you can build a fire in a cold hearth and dust off old comfortable chairs.  Perhaps you can build a new home.  If not you can leave with a warm heart and a promise that we must meet like this again.

 

It's time to write a resurrection story.

 

- Jock Tamson, Torchbearer.

 

Somehow I feel like my friends are ignoring me (scurries off to create a horde of Blasters (Blaptrollers) and Masterminds and Scrappers)

[Sovera]

This is simply amazing. It has the same cadence of mythos and it is a shame it is not actually included in the game.