The Sketch Rift: The Eternal Crusade

My, My, Moth

As soon as Soal and Irene heard the door shut behind them with a creaky ka-kow, and Ivel began to swear on the other side, there was much to mentally absorb. This squarely shaped room was, however cramped in comparison to the last at under thirty feet across, defined by the threadbare sleeping bag on one side, and a built-in desk and chair on the other, as if the Fviron (assuming Hemingway's hypothesis was correct) had been expecting someone. The ceiling of this room opened into a thought-provoking skylight, although the natural light that entered remained so dim, torches similar to those in the previous room lined the four walls.

The thin Ambassador had grown as much as the other Un-Characters of Hendera had, but potentially less so, considering his age at the time was somewhat younger than many of the others. Now, probably seventeen years of age or so, he was seated in the chair, dropping a No. 2 pencil as soon as the Master Bringer came into sight. The sandy-haired Ambassador proceeded to turn to them with a defeated, irksome expression, his face just as childish as it had seemed six years earlier, yet concealing burdensome truths which had plagued him ever since then.

"Ahem," Moth began, without any sort of explanation or introduction. His voice was slightly raspier, and every few sentences, he wheezed heavily or coughed into his arm, releasing a cloud of dust. "As soon as you entered, I calculated I would complete this postcard right at that moment -- and I was correct. More proof of my long-proven capability. Look, see?" he handed them a classic postcard with a Lint Corp stamp, addressed to both Soal and Irene. Soal, eyebrows quizzically contorted, accepted it for him. In archaic, bubbly letters, it read: "Greetings from Macaw Creek, PA!" over a poorly edited photograph of its signature forest. "Also, Breyer Bejir, am I still a 'jerk'?"

"Moth..." Soal was partially grateful to be reunited with Moth but filled with even more questions than ever before. Irene was even more alienated. "I'm true to my word. You still totally freak me out. In fact, much more so than even I could imagine."

"Well, apparently I was not," Moth momentarily frowned as he brought to mind one of his most puzzling comments. "It has only been sixty-five chapters since we last met in person, excluding the letters I sent -- the letter I sent to you."

"Okay, first things first," Irene blustered. "This is clearly not the same Moth that I have last seen. You look... hungrier, and more... depressed. And that's not even mentioning the mumbo-jumbo I just heard."

"He was like this last time, too," Soal's teeth chattered. "Except I could understand him at least some of the time then."

"Let me simplify this for you two," he gestured and got to his feet before his visitors. Now that he was older, even Moth had grown taller than Soal, slightly taller than Irene. "I know I had something of a growth spurt a few years ago, to answer your thoughts. Okay, maybe 'simplify' is the wrong term. It's more like... 'interpret'."

"How are we supposed to gain our supposedly great powers from... you?" Irene was skeptical of the former Formulator's ability to awaken the potential within them. "And what does 'Ambassador' even mean?"

That's a question I've long wanted to answer myself, Soal was disappointed that he had not asked the question first.

"As the Ambassador," Moth harrumphed, "I'm so important, people have devoted their lives to h -- protecting me, something that would never have happened in the old days of the Facility. My role is to communicate with the true deities, or Cofontors, worshipped by the Fviron and to maintain a balance with the most divine creator, the Kyueb Reacsoa, so I can make our universe worth saving."

"So, basically, you're a mad cultist," Soal ridiculed, much to Moth's displeasure. "Does this mean that Hemingway was right about the whole Fviron thing, or does he believe in this gobbledygook also?"

"I know you won't believe me yet, but what the Fviron believed is true," the Ambassador defended his principles. "In fact, Hemingway and I are great allies, and in a way, all of Hendera and the Crusade must believe me as well. Not exactly believing that mouthful that I just told you, but I proved to them I was worth the protection with a few marvelous stunts in relation to my hears-all knows-all mind."

As expected, neither of the Master Bringer was convinced in the slightest, but they wanted to hear more. "...And...?" Irene waited for another response from the Ambassador.

"The leader of the all-seeing Observers, the Breyer Bejir (whom I dare to attract more Observers)," Moth continued, "is another common indirect contributor, alongside the Kyueb Reacsoa, who has our entire life planned ahead of us. Well, that is, only select sections of the part he wants to show to the Observers. And once that part is over, it's back to the drawing board for all of us. As the Ambassador, I am the only one who is controlled autonomously. That includes --"

"I don't want to go too deep into this existential stuff!" Irene was already perspiring if Moth was speaking the truth. Even though it seemed like they were governing themselves, were they really? Neither member of the Master Bringer believed, nor did they want to believe at any point. "All we need to know is: how will you make us more powerful?"

"Well," Moth toned down his speech. "being the Ambassador of the Great Five, I possess immense mental capabilities. However, when the scenario regards a predicament such as your own..." he paused for a moment, exhaling a deep breath. "...there is little, perhaps nothing, that I can do to help you."