We choose freedom.
We reject the idea that everyone must work in the same way… live in the same manner… be consistent with the same morals.
We even reject that we have to have the same physics.
There are three Liberator factions. They all support any effort to increase individual liberty, but the factions have little to do with each other beyond encouraging each other’s efforts. Indeed, given the diversity of their styles, cultures and even ethics, they might even be opposed to each other — were it not for the unifying force of the ever-present Keeper threat. The Liberators all oppose all Keeper attempts to create some sort of Earthly utopia, so they sometimes band together for common defense. They are restless, unable to simply study this world as the Illuminators do… and they are as likely to celebrate a new discovery as to reject it in favor of some steampunk / monastic / naturalist / fashionable ideal. The Liberators are a force of change — sometimes directed, sometimes random, but always dynamic.
The Liberator’s Perspective
One Experience Is Worth Ten Teachers
Utopia Is Formless; Organization Stifles Growth
On the Great Salt Plain, a storm raged. Three women huddled in a tent made for two. One wore the national costume of the USA: jeans and a t-shirt. Another wore a flowing linen robe with no bindings or belt. The third wore leather and was festooned with tattoos, scars and piercings, like an industrial accident victim who opted not to have the shrapnel removed.
“You owe me for putting up with this, Hart,” said Magi Celest, pulling her robe out from under the other woman’s shoe.
Hart scowled. “I didn’t create this surprise storm.”
“No,” said the one in leather. “But you and yours insisted we meet in this godforsaken magickless hell.”
Hart sighed. “The Disciples of Cain have survived for millennia by paranoia. You want to have a secret meeting? Salt suppresses all magick. There aren’t many places in the world where we can be sure the Keepers aren’t spying. But I don’t expect a freak like you to understand operational security, Bambi.”
“Bambi” growled. “My name is Bambrick. And I’m sick of your paranoia. The Schism is just as hunted as you, but we don’t hide like cockroaches!”
“Stop!” Celest rubbed her temples. “Let’s try to stay civil. We all want to leave. But we Toltecs have a saying: ‘There’s no use shouting at salt.’ It’s supposed to be a metaphor, but today, it’s exactly right. The storm may not pass all night. We can’t walk out of here until then. So in the meantime, why don’t we take advantage of the time to go back over our agreement and make sure we didn’t miss anything.”
Bambrick replied, “Oh, I suppose. If nothing else, it’ll help me personally commit to memory where all these safe houses are located. Might need one someday.”
Hart nodded. “Someday soon, yes. But some other day, I promise, Cain will lead us to break those Keeper bastards.”
Bambrick smirked. Celest rolled her eyes. Before Bambrick could say something inflammatory, Celest jumped in. “Right. Well, until he does, let’s just focus on this…”
The three Magi turned their attention to the map they had drawn earlier.
— Transcribed by Stephen “Archivist Lond” Loftus-Mercer