"The Secret of the Owl"

The Viceking was well dead, had been buried long ago, a new city built over his remains. The Viceking's feet were the mountains of Angst. The Viceking's hands made peninsulas, on the tip of which the new city put libraries and lighthouses. Residential district went right between the legs. And the Viceking's head became the sought-after parliament headquarters-- the peak of a hill in a thick wood where cultists (followers of The Feared One and his binocular vision) are said to still gather to discuss our future.
Upon the shores of His fingers, a bottle washes. Inside is a message adorned in the seal of the parliament, intended for any passing traveler. You'll do.
"Start at the head, work your way down from there."
The parliament has spoken. The rite of passage has begun.
The Viceking is dead (long live the King). He had to die so that he could be reborn.
And you're gonna help him.
Listen. What you're looking for, in this tomb, you'll find it at the centre. The centre of the maze, the centre of the Viceking's anatomy, the centre of everything. You need to find it. Find Buckley's gun. Shoot the buried King. Get to the centre. Witness the Viceking's rebirth.
Can you do it?
- The Shem Who Wrote Himself Into The Walls

MANIFESTO

A manifesto for Viceking's Graab in 2015 and beyond by Christoph Magreat

Build the maze. Build the maze big. Build the maze around blogs. Build the history, frame it around a mystery: Who was the Viceking? He has an actual identity. There is a right answer. But it's not just enough to know who the Viceking was. One must also know what happened to him. How he died. Why he died. Why there's a tomb. How this applies or relates to the reality as a whole. Where blogs fit into this.

Thou art reader. Thou art thonthorstrok. Thou art fucked.