The Masked Man

### Name

Ḿ̵̴̶̸̸̴̶̸̴̶̴̷̸̴̷̵̸̷̷̨̢̧̨̧̨̨̛̛̙͍̠̻̟̖̺̭̗̲̦̥̪̺͎̣̭͕̳̺͖̦͖̝̞̩͈̣͇͕̞̠̯̩̠̫̳̝̼̮̫̗͙̯̘̙̫̱͙̮̗̗͙̟̪̪̝̫͙̲̲̫͕̥̣͙̺̝̼͕̞͍̦͉͍̘̜̠͙̻̱̖͇̇̈́̀̈́́̏̽́́̒́̇̈́̄̐̊̓̎̔́͌͋̒͐͌̂̓̄̈́́̆̓̀͒̊̇̽͑̃̑̌̈́͑̈́͋̾͗̎̈́̀͂̍̇̓͑̈́̓̓͑͛̋̆̋̃̒͆̐̕̚̕͘͜͜͠͝͝͠͠͝ę̴̷̶̷̶̷̵̷̶̵̸̴̷̷̡̨̡̧̡̢̛̥̥̬̗͕̦̣̬͚̼̘̳̗͍̙̝̫͙̞͇͇͕͓̪͈̭̺̙̰̳̤͖̠̘̪̬̘͈̝͖̫͚̙̦͓̲͖̙͎͇̮͕̺̥͖̗̭̦̒̆̉̍͊̾̉̀̽̈͛͐̄̆͂̈́̾̈́̓͗̇̌̉͗̋̂̾͊̃͗́̈́͐͑̈́͌̊̂́̂̆̆͌̃̈́̂͒̓̓͐͐̑̄̕͘̚̚͘̚͘̕̕̕͜͝͝͝͝h̷̷̵̶̸̸̴̷̸̶̷̸̴̴̢̡̨̡̡̛̺̠̘̳̯̯͎͚̹̩̝̗̹̭̮̱̱̘̖̩̙̰̰͖̙̩͙̗̗̼̩̱͉͓̫̥̺̫̟̪̬̟̻͓͙̰̼̼̙͔̥̫̬̘̖͚͆̑͐̈́́́̀͋̇̇̀̐̂̅̓̅̑̆̽̇̈̊͂̉̅̍̑́̿͛̊̓͋̀̒̅̇̈́́̀͛̽͐̃͐́̊̄̔̉͂́̅̑͊͐̄̇̊͛̆͗̿͑̒̎͆̐̀̍̒͘͜͝͠͠ͅņ̵̴̴̷̸̸̷̷̵̶̷̨̡̢̢̧̨̡̛̛̫̮͙͙̣̗̙̩̩̝̖̤͕̮̠̰̟̪̥̞̭̳̣̺͙̬̝̪̭̟̜̺̭͕̹͔̮̓͌̂̓́͗̑̀͊̐̋̄̽́͒̂̐̎̐̾̂͐́̑̍͆̍̊̍̐̈͒̑̾͗̆͘͘̕̚̚̚͝͝͝͝͠T̸̵̷̵̴̷̵̴̷̨̢̢̛͈͔̻̠̝̥̘̥͙̻̖̳̼̱̟̯̹̮̠͔̥͖̬̤͕̱̤̳̦̼͚̻̝̤͈̯̩͕̻̾͒̓͗̂̈́̒̈̂́̓̋͌̓͆̾̈́̀̆̌̌̽̃̇̔͒͊͆͛̈́̈́͌̏̂̆̔͗̒̀̋̏͆̊͊̓̃͛̋̈́͘͘̚͠͝͝͠͝ͅk̵̷̶̵̷̷̵̴̸̸̶̶̶̵̶̵̶̸̸̴̡̡̢̡̨̢̧̡̨̡̡̨̧̛̛̛̰̠̺̣̟̙̤͕͉̭̮̯͔͎̻͔̪̘̣̮͎̗͇̳̟̠͈͔͓̱̞̟̭̳̦͇̞̯̩͔̹̤̩̖̹̫̳̘̩̘̮̪̗̲̘̱̝̟̫͖͇͎̮͕̦̖̝͍̦̦̘̾͆̐̓͒̋̅̀̇̍̈́͆͗̌̒͋̿̅̋͐̿̎́̑̐̑́̒͗̎̇͆͌̒͑̑́̑͋̽͐̾̅̊̽͗̄͂͐̀̉̑́̿͒̀͑̅̄̐̀͛̅̌̿͋̀̇̑̋̇̉̕̚̕̚͜͜͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅe̵̸̷̸̷̵̴̷̵̴̵̵̵̸̴̺̰̜̭̪̹̦̮̼̥̦̜͓͚̭̹͍̤̬̣̼̹̺̼͖̘͙̥̩͚͈̝̺̫̣̱͉̼̻͙̻̗̱͑̏͑͗̇̋̅̊̎̅͋̋̽̍̋͛̀͐̓̊̀͂͌́̓̔̈̈́̏̄̓́̈̍͊̿̀̎͋̊̊̑̽̔͊́͛̌͊͋̈̑͌́͂̄͛̔͐̔͊̍̈́͐̕̚̚͝͝͠ ̸̵̶̴̶̶̴̴̷̶̵̶̷̨̨̨̨̨̛̟͕̳̦̺̳̬̮̟̲̺͓͍͍̩͉̲̼̰̯͇͙͉̲̠̬͈̲̪̞̘͙̲̪̝̙̟̹͈̝̖̗̙̞̘̦̼̼̙̗̗̺̟̫̖̖̼͈̀̄̽͌̀̽͂̌̈́͑̌̓̈́̽̽̈́͋͗̓̂̋̑̒̈́̈́̾̊̿̌̿͛̿̐̑̃́͑͛̾̽̃̌̂͑̀̒̈́̆̍̔͂̃̕͜a̶̸̶̷̴̵̶̵̵̸̷̴̷̶̵̶̴̢̢̢̡̧̧̲̰̠̙͈̦̜̝̱̗͚̟̩͕͍͔̫̭̰͇̖̼̤͕̹͔̯̙̘̪̱̬̲̘̜̙͚̞̻̯͇̫̗̗͍͎͙͉͇̣͉͕̩̮̟͓̳̟͉̠̞̟̽̑͆̊̔̔̓̃̀̽̐̓̾́̈́̆͌͐̽̃̐̈̑̆̊̑̎̾́̀͑̓̂͂̄̑͊́̔̄̾̄̽͆́̊͐̒̃̀͋̍̀͒͐͐̄̌̿͌͋̑̆̊̏̾̀̑͐̓͘͘̕̚͜͜͜͠͝ͅṂ̶̴̸̷̷̵̷̷̴̴̷̴̵̸̸̸̵̡̢̡̡̣̯̰̠͇̘͓͈̦̹̤̜̜͕̟̞̥̝̙͈̝͎̪͇̹͚̺̲̳̩̠͉̳͖̠͉̟̪̥̭̭̤̞̯͎̹̝͈̘̩̼̫̘̰͕̥̰̱̦̳̗̺͖͍̘̥͕̙̥̈́̆̀͌̽͗̎̓̓̌̇̽͊̇͂͊̃́̐̐̄͒̽̋̏̍͐̀́̅͆̈́́̉̈́̑̓̂̒̈́͐͋̾̐̽̂̏͒̈̔̇͗͗̄̽̑͐͊̒̇͒̇͗͆͒̌̾̍͘̕̕̕͜͜͝͝͝͠͠ͅą̸̶̵̴̸̷̸̴̶̸̶̴̶̴̴̵̸̶̷̢̢̧̧̧̨̛̛̘̺͈̳͈̰͕̝̝̬̝̟͚̗̖͈̘̖̲̭̣̬̝̭̜͉̝̤͕̣̝͉̘̲̫̩͓̗͎͖͚̩̬̜̲̟̼̩̗̗̖̹͈͇̻͉̤̣̳͕͓̩̭̘̺̩̰̮̔̇̊̐̐̓̿́́̎̈́̐̂͊̿̊̑́̐́̾̔̃͒͆̊͆̌͒͛̿͌͒̎̍͛̀̋̌̔̓̈̍̄̏̏̽̔͗̀̃̔͋́̅͂͛̔̿͌̂̑̍͌͂͊̒͘̕͘̕͘͘̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅd̷̵̶̸̶̷̴̷̨͉̝̠̯͍̦̻̜͚͚̪̤̩̱̣̲̬̻͈̣̖̐͒̓̈́͑̈́̾̀̀̄̓̎͂͂͋̀̋͐͐͌͘͘̕̚͘͜ͅš̷̸̸̴̷̷̸̵̴̵̸̸̶̨̢̛̛̜͙̦̝̹̩̲̲̫̫̯̝͓̬̳̞̹͈̳͖͚̱̹̺̲̞͔̖͍͖͕̦͎̳͈̰͍̘̖̮͚͈̟͉̱̹͔̫̰̲̼̠̦͖̔̿͂͛̿͑̑͑̌̒͒̅̊̽͐͂̈́̄̐̍̏̌̓̃́̓̒̋͆̈́̉̑͒͐̈́̄͒̑̿̑̃͐͌̕͘̚̕̚͝ͅͅͅͅ ̸̸̴̷̷̵̵̸̸̵̴̶̴̷̷̷̴̵̧̧̨̧̨̨̡̡̢͍̟͚͙̺͕̙̱̮̣͕̙͙̻̹̳͖̝̝̖̼̙̠̲͔̺̱̬̼̭̣̺̫̙͕͔̱̟͎̗̮̲̬̣̬̝͍̩̹̫̝͖̤̮̰̮̯̱̰̘̮̼̼̱̯̤̣̯̟͔͊͊͒̔̀̃̿̄̓͛̏̊͊͂̄͒̀̆̐͌̍̾͑͛̾̽͌̈́̄̆̏͗́̿̔͊͒̃̅̔͒͑̊͂͑̇̃̓͋͐́͒͐̈̆̓͘̕̚͘̚͜͜͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅ

### Titles

The Scribe,Eldest, Magos, The Watcher in the Rain, Song Unsung, Nameless and Faceless, Prince of the unfettered nowhere

### Artifacts

The Coffin of Plenty, Grimoire of Truth, Sceptor of Sorcerer-Kings, Planesunder, Die of Possibility, Destiny Blade, Tincture of missed potential

To the inattentive or the uninitiated, at first glance the Divine known by many as the Masked Man would seem as little more than a roadside traveller, one of thousands found at crossroad taverns or trawling through a street market. His clothes seem almost patched together, robes of grey-green cover his form from head to toe leaving no skin exposed, leather gloves hide away his hands and when his cloak is swept aside a dark set of travellers clothes can be seen with many a pocket sewn into the fabric. Placed over his face is his eponymous mask, black and featureless. No openings for a nose or mouth mark this mask, only for his eyes, yellow and slitted like those of a cat, stare out unblinkingly at all, many claim they feel these eyes staring into and through them assessing the very spirit and merit of their being with every passing moment.

The Masked Man holds sway over many spheres, his interests varied and complex. He is known as the god of intrigue, mystery, change and, perhaps most importantly, chaos. Where the plotter whispers there he listens, where the murderer stashes his prey, there he watches, where the politician trades away the lives of many to fill the lining of his own pockets there he reads, where the few seek to betray and twist the lives of the many, there he stands. No plot goes unspoken, no riddle goes unsolved, no coup goes unravelled without him preceding it. He is the patron and master for the schemer and the investigator both, driving either side against each other, aiding and hindering in equal measures in an endless cycle leading all towards an ending perhaps only he can see or only dare to envision.

He is perhaps the Divine most readily found within the mortal realms of Confluence, his influence is found in countless places from the mundane to the mystical, from governance to secret crafts of mages. His worshipers are quick to find their prayers answered, more often than not in person and whilst he is certainly a personable god, he is not light to punish those he would consider fools. His clerics know well the dangers of pressing their luck with the god of change, to expect their positions to remain stagnant and fixed would be like trying to hold back the wind. Even those who are not his followers can find themselves caught in his grip, individuals who plot and scheme, groups working for their own benefit at the expense of others, the rapid gasping and frantic pattering of those in power as they try to claw back the desperate illusion of their own power whilst their people rage in silent indolence, all run the risk, danger and perhaps joy of being graced by eyes in the murky dark of dusk.

His names are perhaps even more varied than his own areas of influences. The First, The Masked Man, Scribe of Ages, Starsinger, names countless and unknown all given to him by mortal and immortal alike and yet he takes none for his own, nor it seems does he even have one to call by himself. Spells, divinations, and other methods to discern his name and true identity have not only failed to delve out the truth of the matter but far worse it has burned out the minds of any who are not made of the strongest of wills. Some truths are either not for others to know or perhaps so vast and terrifying that it is better they rest in their self styled tombs.

Some too say that he is working towards a singular goal, from which in truth only he will benefit from. There is perhaps some certainty of that, for his appearances throughout mortal history have been many, his whisperings have led to conflicts great and small. Some even dare to claim that it was him that first murmured the ideas of the concept of Confluence to both Almaril and Asmodai, that it was him to encourage the demon lord Ubban to focus his attentions onto a small patch of land on the edge of the Western Continent of Confluence. That it was him, through secret dealings and letters that led to the fracturing of the Theocracies. Perhaps there is a greater plan in motion that he has silently been working diligently towards since before there was even conflict between the planes, or perhaps it is simply his nature to be drawn towards disasters and destruction before it has even truly arrived.

### Temples

To call them temples does not truly do justice to the description of them, for the Alcoves of the Masked Man are more reliquaries of hidden things, places unfound and quiet places of personal reflection or murmured plotting. They are never looked for, only ever found, the entrance forever relocating and not by design or intent can they be broken open or broken into by mortal minds or means, the temple attendants simply must have a desire to find it yet not actively search for it and the entrance will reveal itself. At times it may appear as a door in an alleyway, impossible that it would lead to anything, or an opening hiding just out of view at the back of a storefront, or else a room within the practitioner's very own home. Each of these doors lead to the same stairwell, descending deep beneath their town stead to where the Alcove itself is located.

These are dark places, though never dingy, here even dark vision does not avail more to be seen than it would for those ungifted with such natural skills. With smooth architecture and many hidden passageways and halls, any number of meetings may be held intending to take up any number of reasons and one can never be truly aware of who or what may or may not be listening in. By design as well, one may find themselves fortunate enough to hear the secret whispering of those within or perhaps with truest of luck and prayer even the those who have never set foot within. Stranger still, magic here seems by design intentionally restricted, with only powerful clerics able to call upon their divine strength, to those not within the vaulted number of their gods truest faithful some power can still be called upon, for psionics are greatly praised by him and his followers and such powers are truly embraced in the dark.

### Followers

For those that bind themselves to the Master of Plots, their gifts may seem small at first glance but utterly invaluable for those who value their cloying secrecy. Beneath the surface of their flesh a mask will manifest itself, the wearer able to swap between it and their natural features at will. At first it will have only the effects that a normal mask would have, however as the years go by and their devotion grows its effects increase, from changing the wearers clothing, to altering their voice until eventually making it so that they are entirely unable to be recognised by any upon donning their guise. It is no surprise then that followers of the Masked Man make natural spies and spymasters, guildmasters and the shadowy underhanded aides of great leaders alike. For them, it is not the goal of their plots and schemes that is the important part, they do not seek resolution to the myriad of issues in the world but rather to layer scheme upon scheme, dissent unto dissent and weave a fine ballad of disaster on the world around them so that nothing may remain permanent.

### Scions

Uniquely amongst the Seven, The Masked Man has no scion or direct underling. Many have speculated that once, long before the material plane was even a hint of a concept, there existed one or even two that were each of them either banished or destroyed, scattered beyond timeless time. Some still lay claim that they have felt them, a whisper in the dark, a shuddering feeling in the emptiness of sleep, a longing on a pallid wind. Whatever the truth of it is, no mortal has yet discerned.

### Artifacts

#### The Coffin of Plenty

Taking the form of a plain unadorned box, little longer than a hand's length and width, with no lock to secure it. It has two functions, both of which has made it a sought after prize for both beggars and kings alike. The first is that any item no greater than a common magical item, can be placed within the confines of the box so long as it would fit and upon dawn the next day it would be doubled in amount. The second function allows for a person to write the mundane item of their desires onto a piece of paper and place it within the box and by dusk the next day either it or the means to obtain that which they have written will appear before them.

#### Grimoire of Truth

Deeply coveted by wizards throughout the ages and locked away in great vaults time and time again before being stolen away by those whose ambitions run greater than their wisdom. This book allows a person to speak any questions they desire to it and to which it will always give an answer back with perfect clarity. The issue however is that each answer will either be perfectly truthful or a complete lie, which the reader will simply have no way of knowing which is which.

#### Sceptre of Sorcerer-Kings

Said to have been crafted in a distant land long since forgotten to time and memories, the onyx and sapphire mace almost seems to ripple and boil with power, discharging it in subtle bursts of energy. For those that have the power to tap into the arts of magic it is a potent if hazardous weapon for they can decide to disregard their intended spell to channel one entirely at random, allowing for truly devastating effects to decimate the field of battle.

#### Planesunder

Appearing as no more intriguing at first glance than a regular knitting needle, this artifact however has immense potential. It is imbibed with the power to rip open stable pathways between the planes, even those that ought not be connected. But too that which can be opened can be used to close shut forever, and many have feared what it could do in the wrong hands, if those hands were turned towards the Divine Gate.

#### Die of Possibility

A simple twenty sided dice, though clearly holding great power, it has left theologists and wizards baffled for millenia. Those that roll it seem to become either innately successful individuals, or else the people around them do, though equally there seems to be trends of poor luck to both the owner or those around them. Many have speculated that it has some bearing over luck and probability, though if that is the case none have truly been able to confirm it.

#### Destiny Blade

A weapon granted to the greatest champions of chaos, the Blade is a greatsword able to be wielded with ease by any no matter their size or strength. Glowing with a soft, green-blue light almost like moonlight across a lake, the Blade seems to be made out of an unusual crystal that is lighter than steel and stronger besides. The true power in the blade however is that it allows the user in addition to their raw strength, to use the force of their intellect and will to increase the strength of each blow, though doing so at the risk of burning these traits out until they have had a chance to rest.

#### Tincture of missed potential

All know that to travel in time is to court disaster, none have ever made the passage and succeeded, fewer still is the number of those that have survived such an attempt, their memories being scoured from reality and only the echo of their passing remaining as an afterimage to identify them. And yet somehow, the owners of this hourglass, which contains only a single shining mote of dust, claim that they are able to once per day repeat a single moment in time. If that were the case it would be an extremely useful item to possess, though perhaps the consequences for its abuse are too high for all but the most foolhardy to seek out.