#the beacons

[cosmonautroger]

Vic Mars, The Beacons, 2023

[bebopsisyphus]

I was laying in bed thinking of tonight's episode, and as I was about to fall asleep my mind drifted to Caleb's theory on the beacons and the consecrated souls possibly being the people of Aeor who rose up and became the Dynasty, and I jolted up in bed with excitement! That's crazy!!!! I think he connected the dots man

[falling-rhayne]

tinfoil hat theory but

Do you think the Luxon Beacons have anything to do with this whole floating city amidst the astral sea thing? There’s this whole idea that The Luxon didn’t come from Exandria, but somewhere beyond, and so far the Krynn have only found 4 dodecahedrons which are supposed to be pieces of it’s “body”, and there’s a possible 5th dodecahedron in the clutches of the Empire.

But, and just hear me out here, what if there are 9 dodecahedrons? What if these, instead of just being parts of the Luxon, these were actually keys to opening the gates of this forbidden city?

When TM9 received the vision didn’t they have this feeling of being multiple people at once? Looking through memories of the several inhabitants of this city? Isn’t that almost what it feels like to look directly into the dodecahedron? Seeing pieces, parts of yourself, scattered all around you in the empty space?

Plus, there’s also the theory that Molly was consecrated. He “died” as Lucien and woke up as Molly with no memories, but he kept saying he was “empty”. This is just my Dragon Age brainrot speaking What if Lucien somehow got inside the city and found that it was empty. And that’s why it’s the only word he could say?

MATTHEW MERCER WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN?!

[higgity-heck]

so as the hiatus continues the brain cell I have dedicated solely to cr has been focused on wondering wtf is up with the beacons, especially in regards to divine vs arcane magic. not sure if many people have brought this up, but I thought I’d put in my two cents for shits n gigs

somewhere in the EGtW, it was said that clerics of the luxon do exist, but nobody’s actually seen the luxon before. So that’s established that the beacons are a source of divine energy

AND we know that wizards don’t have to believe in anything to cast, but dunamancy is only found in the dynasty, which implies that somehow even arcane casters can use the power of the luxon. based on what Essek’s said, it seems like they just have to study them/learn from someone to be able to practice dunamancy

so, regardless of whether you believe in the luxon or not you can use its power - shit, we’ve even seen that in the fact that the nein could attune to the beacon right off the bat. Which got me thinking - what are the limits of the mediums you can access the luxon in?

could you make a pact with the beacons and create a luxon-warlock? Swear an oath? Create a ‘circle of the luxon’ Druid? If you get a bard to stand close enough to it would they start bending time?

all this shit makes it seem like the beacons are some sort of ‘universal adaptor’ - as in, they’re not one particular type of magic, but instead are just raw power sources that anyone with magical abilities can tap into

so NOW im wondering why tf these things exist and also why they’ve been buried underground all across wildemount

Tl;dr - I think the beacons are magical nuclear reactors and that bards could use them like superpowered guitar amps

[glindathegolden]

So I've been rewatching critical role and now I have a question

The umavi are like the best right... So what happens when they die and come back? Do they get 'more' better? More enlightened? Or just stay perfected?

[thestarsarelaughing]

So if a consecuted being who dies near a beacon gets their soul transferred to a new body, does that mean they can’t be resurrected?

I imagine Revivify might still work because it happens so soon after death. But at what point can the soul no longer be recalled?

(I’m assuming there’s a point beyond which Resurrection spells would fail because the idea of tearing a soul out of its current body to revive its old body seems... creepy at best.)

[artfoli]

Rubens, river of oblivion, garden of indolence, Pillow of cool flesh where one cannot love, But where life moves and whirls incessantly Like the air in the sky and the tide in the sea; Leonardo, dark, unfathomable mirror, In which charming angels, with sweet smiles Full of mystery, appear in the shadow Of the glaciers and pines that enclose their country; Rembrandt, gloomy hospital filled with murmuring, Ornamented only with a large crucifix, Lit for a moment by a wintry sun, Where from rot and ordure rise tearful prayers; Angelo, shadowy place where Hercules’ are seen Mingling with Christs, and rising straight up, Powerful phantoms, which in the twilights Rend their winding-sheets with outstretched fingers; Boxer’s wrath, shamelessness of Fauns, you whose genius Showed to us the beauty in a villain, Great heart filled with pride, sickly, yellow man, Puget, melancholy emperor of galley slaves; Watteau, carnival where the loves of many famous hearts Flutter capriciously like butterflies with gaudy wings; Cool, airy settings where the candelabras’ light Touches with madness the couples whirling in the dance Goya, nightmare full of unknown things, Of fetuses roasted in the midst of witches’ sabbaths, Of old women at the mirror and of nude children, Tightening their hose to tempt the demons; Delacroix, lake of blood haunted by bad angels, Shaded by a wood of fir-trees, ever green, Where, under a gloomy sky, strange fanfares Pass, like a stifled sigh from Weber; These curses, these blasphemies, these lamentations, These Te Deums, these ecstasies, these cries, these tears, Are an echo repeated by a thousand labyrinths; They are for mortal hearts a divine opium. They are a cry passed on by a thousand sentinels, An order re-echoed through a thousand megaphones; They are a beacon lighted on a thousand citadels, A call from hunters lost deep in the woods! For truly, Lord, the clearest proofs That we can give of our nobility, Are these impassioned sobs that through the ages roll, And die away upon the shore of your Eternity.

Les Phares (The Beacons), by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867)